Distorted
by LostinOblivion
Summary: All it was, was a case that involved someone from her past, then it spiraled wildly out of control. Hints of Morgan/Prentiss.
1. Chapter 1

_WARNINGS: This is the only warning that will appear, it applies to the whole story. This is a chaptered case-ficish story that will eventually contain scenes of abuse and rape of a major character. I will not warn when its coming, this is the only one you get. If you can't take it, don't read it. But honestly, if you can watch this show, you can handle this. _

_There will be hints of Morgan/Prentiss, but not much beyond that.  
_

* * *

_"Severe mental illness like psychosis can lead to a tragedy like this - that people can see things that aren't real and hear things that aren't real and believe things that aren't real, and act in that distorted reality." -about Andrea Yates, who drowned her five children in a bathtub_

**Sunday**

Morgan dragged another white and green bucket of spackle into the living room of the house. Prentiss was scrapping the last bits from the first bucket they used, and gently layering it onto the wall, repairing minor cracks and breaks. Her dark hair was pulled back, and to his continued enjoyment, she was wearing a tank top and cutoffs.

Emily Prentiss was the last woman he'd expect to own a pair of cut-offs, but he found he was continually surprised by her. It was about four months ago, on the flight home from a rough case (as if any weren't rough) that she'd asked to help him work on his properties. After the initial surprise passed, he'd said of course, fully expecting her to join him once or twice, and that was it. She was still coming though, and bringing with her, her own brand of nerdy, infectious enthusiasm.

She'd been with him the entire time he'd been working on this house, perfectly happy to do whatever needed doing. When he'd first brought her, Morgan had carefully explained what he planned with the living room and dining room, and watched her turn slowly around both areas, picturing what he saw in his head. Prentiss had suddenly turned to him, smile on her face, and said, "Let's do it, then."

It didn't matter that they were constantly together, at work and now here; they worked well together in both situations. They knew each others quirks already, and had no discomfort working in companionable silence. Morgan couldn't think of a single other person he could spend this much time with, and not get aggravated. Even Garcia would grate on him eventually-there are times a guy needs to brood, and it's hard to brood with the ray of sunshine that is Penelope Garcia around.

Together, he and Prentiss had broken down the wall between the rooms down, cleaned out the old fireplace (a hideously, disgusting job), ripped up the carpet in the living room and cleaned off the beautiful wood floor beneath, and fixed the walls in the dining room. Now, they were fixing the walls in the living room, then they'd lay the molding. She'd actually helped him pick that out. Morgan would admit, if only to himself, that it was kind of fun having someone as invested in the house as he was.

"Perfect timing, I just ran out." Emily smiled and held up her spatula of the last of the white goop.

"I aim to please," he said, cheekily.

Prentiss rolled her eyes, and turned back to the wall with a smile on her face. Morgan watched her a minute, before working on prying the bucket open. He'd just gotten it when a phone started to ring. He checked his, and then turned to his companion, who was already opening hers, with an exasperated look on her face. Morgan didn't even need to hear her greet JJ, before he started pounding the top back onto the fresh bucket of spackle. That look meant a case.

"How bad is it?" Morgan watched her face carefully as she listened to JJ answer her question. The wince wasn't too severe, so it wouldn't be one of their worst.

"That's creepy." Emily went silent again. "I'm on my way, and I'm with Morgan, so I'll let him know." Then she smirked. "No, we did not. We were spackling walls." A slightly embarrassed smile. "Don't go there. I'll see you in twenty."

Prentiss turned to him then, and his bemused expression. "What?" She asked.

"Something tells me, I had a staring role in the end of that conversation."

Her smile turned slightly wicked. "Wouldn't you like to know." Then she started walking out.

"Hey!" He called after her.

"We've got a serial killer to catch."

* * *

"We're going to Albany. Four women have been killed in the last three and a half weeks," JJ announced, passing folders around the table. "The first two, Sidney Thomas and Jessica Lawson were a week apart, the third, Sara Bennett, five days later, and this last one, Moira Durning, was last night, only three days after the previous one."

"He's escalating quickly," Reid commented, studious frown on his young face as he studied the pages.

"Yeah, and the victims are all upper middle-class or wealthy, so Albany PD and our local office are both getting a lot of heat from the local politicians. And, this one has a lot of press attention guys, they'll be watching everything we do."

"Yeah, cause that'll help us," Morgan grumbled.

"I don't need to tell any of you that no one is to have any contact with the press, verbal or otherwise. JJ will manage them for us." Hotch gently warned his profilers.

Pressure made tempers flare, tempers caused normally diplomatic people to snap and make rude gestures or comments to the cause of their stress.

"Oh my god," Prentiss suddenly blurted out, eyes widened on something in the case file.

"Em?" JJ asked.

Prentiss looked up startled, as if she hadn't realized she'd spoken aloud. "Uh, I know one of the victims, well one of the husbands of one of the victims," she corrected, still startled by the discovery.

"Who?"

"Chris Bennett, number three." She wasn't looking at JJ, but studying the family photo that had been included in the case file.

"Closely?" Hotch asked, frowning.

Now she looked up. "Yeah, once, years ago."

"Old boyfriend?" Morgan asked, lips upturned in amusement.

"Sort of..." She ran her tongue over her lips nervously. "I was supposed to marry him fifteen years ago."

It was crickets for a few minutes, raised eye brows, open mouths, and wide-eyes the only responses the team could manage, until Reid of all people, gathered his wits.

"What happened?"

"I broke it off." The finality of her tone indicated that's as much information as they were getting.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Hotch asked her.

"No. I got over it, and I'm assuming he did." He'd gotten married and had kids, she figured it was a safe bet.

Hotch simply nodded. "Wheels up in thirty."

That effectively called an end to the meeting, all further discussion would be reserved for the flight. They all filed out of the room, JJ stopping Emily before she could.

"And, I thought you being with Morgan at 10 in the morning on a Sunday was interesting. When we get back, you're so telling me about this guy."

Emily rolled her eyes. "It was fifteen years ago, and it's really not that juicy."

"Then why hide it?"

"I didn't hide it, I just didn't-" she stopped and groaned, "Fine, when we get back, I'll tell you about it."

JJ smiled then, satisfied, and gestured toward the door.


	2. Chapter 2

_So, here's the second chapter. Thank you to the people who reviewed the first. Thanks for reading, and please review. _

_

* * *

_"What's up, Garcia?" Prentiss answered her phone as they were settling in on the plane.

"Oh, you tell me, chickadee. Word on the street is you used to be engaged to one of our unfortunate's husbands?" The tech's perky voice greeted her.

"Who told you?"

"I do not reveal my sources, but I will tell you he possess beautifully defined muscle and a smile that could make virgins yank off their panties."

Emily laughed through her nose. "Yeah, well tell him to stop being nosey."

"Hmm, I did that, but that doesn't apply to me. Spill."

She sighed. "I already told JJ, when we get back from this I'll tell you about it. Good enough?"

Garcia made a noise of displeasure. "I suppose I can wait, but I'm going to pounce on you when you get home."

"Then bring a bar with you."

Garcia chuckled. "I'll see what I can do, sugar. Have a good flight."

She hung up before Emily could say goodbye, which was just as well, because they were starting to go over the profile.

"The trauma inflicted is excessive, these autopsy reports mention pieces of skull actually embedded into the brain tissue, and micro-fractures in the skull. The unsub is very angry and hateful of these women," Reid commented.

"But, look at the way the bodies are found," Morgan gestured to the photos. "In bed, under the covers and manipulated into the fetal position, like they're sleeping. It's almost like a child trying to pretend they're just asleep."

"I think you've got something there," Rossi said. "He tucks them in, like you would a child."

"Yeah, but a child couldn't inflict this level of damage." JJ shook her head.

"He's not a child, he just thinks like one." Hotch frowned, and flipped through the photos.

"But only after he's committed the murder? He regrets it then." Emily rested four photos side by side, one from each murder.

"He releases his anger, and then becomes a timid child when it's finished...that's certainly an interesting pathology," Rossi said.

"Whatever happened to him, happened when he was a child," Hotch said. "And, it left him feeling insecure, vulnerable, and very angry."

"And, it involved his mother. She either left his family, or died. I'm thinking leaving is more likely with this level of violence." Morgan had pages flipped up, reading the autopsy findings.

"They were all attacked when they were in their homes alone, he must know the family schedules." Prentiss looked up from her folder. "He either stalks them, or worked for them, or lived nearby maybe."

"Different neighborhoods, and not all of the women were alone. The second victim, her three year-old daughter was with her, she hid in a closet until police got there and found her. She's off-limits as a witness though, she's getting inpatient therapy, and the father won't let anyone near her," JJ explained.

The revelation dampened the mood on the plane considerably, as each of them cursed another child's life irrevocably damaged by an unsub. But, the moment passed as it always did, as it always had too.

"So he either works for them or stalks them." Reid was already pulling his phone out.

"Oracle to the Tech Gods, barer of wisdom and good cheer, how may I direct your call?" Her bubbly voice came through the speaker, injecting the team a feeling of warmth.

"Hey Garcia, we need you to cross-check all the employees for the the four victims. And services they use, stores they frequent, school bus drivers, everything."

"Sure thing, pumpkin, but looking at some of these families, I don't think these are the kind of kids that ride the bus."

"Well, whatever then. You get the idea," Reid said.

"Sure do. I'll work quick like a bunny. Be safe crime-fighters. Garcia out."

* * *

"Agents, thank god. Captain Tom Cavanaugh. I can't thank you enough for getting here so quickly. I got the brass and the press breathing down my neck like the breath of Satan himself." Slightly overweight, and obviously over-worked, the boisterous Albany PD cop outstretched his hand to shake each of theirs.

"Captain Cavanaugh. Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone, these are SSAs Hotchner, Rossi and Reid. Our two other members went directly to the last crime scene." They'd had to shuffle through a massive crowd of reporters just to make it into the station, all shouting questions at them. As if they'd actually answer.

"Great, jumped right into it, I like that. I've cleared a room for you this way." He waved them to follow.

The four FBI agents followed him to a small room that looked like it's original purpose as a conference room had been sacrificed to file storage. Stacks of boxes were pushed against two of three walls, leaving just enough room for them to maneuver around the table comfortably. Four boxes were sitting on the table-presumably the case files, a folded-up map on top of them. A white board was parked against a third wall, three colors of markers and two erasers at their disposal.

"We're a bit, uh, cramped at the moment. Hell, we've been cramped since I was a rookie." He rolled his eyes heavenward, as if the powers that be might actually answer his prayers.

"This is fine. Thank you, Captain. We'll let you know when we're ready with the profile." Hotch shook his hand one more time, and then turned to the team. "Alright, let's get into the files."

Hotch, Rossi and JJ each took a box, while Reid grabbed the map and taped it up to the white board. Having already memorized the addresses of the crime scenes, he marked them each on the map with a blue dot. It made for an awkward polygon, three points clustered nearer to each other, and the fourth farther away. It was almost kite shaped. It was the latest crime that stood away from the others.

"Look at this," he said, drawing the others attention.

"Which victim is that?" Rossi asked.

"The latest one, Margaret Daniels."

"What does that mean?" JJ looked among the profilers. God knows, she'd picked up a lot over the years, but some times, it just didn't make sense to her. Times like these, rare even though they were, it was absolutely bizarre to watch them. It was almost like they were seeing an entirely separate board of information, visible only to them.

"It might mean nothing," Hotch said, "Or it could be the key to finding him."

The blond resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his opacity. She turned again to Reid, as he pulled out his phone, dialing and putting it on speaker.

"Greetings Mortals," Garcia chirped back at them.

"Garcia, you have Hotch, Rossi, JJ and me."

"Well, I'm still working, kids, so unless you have something new for me..."

"Not quite new. While you're searching, can you keep an eye out for people, places or things that the first three victims had in common, but that the fourth may not?" Reid explained quickly.

"Odd request, but sure. You guys find something?"

"Maybe," Reid said, hoping that it wasn't just a fluke.

* * *

"So, what happened with this guy?" Morgan asked as they drove to the latest crime scene.

"Garcia said you were being nosey," Prentiss said, giving him a look.

"My babygirl would never betray me like that." Morgan put a hand over his chest in mock horrified disbelief.

"She didn't actually say your name, just described you in a way that left little question."

"Do I want to know what that was?"

"Probably not," she grinned. "But, no worse than what she usually says."

He nodded. "So enough avoidance, what happened with him? Did he fail the Kilgore Trout test?"

She chuckled. "No, he wasn't a Vonnegut fan, but he already knew I was a nerd, so that wasn't the problem."

"Then what was it? Didn't love him?"

"No, not that either." She turned to stare out the window, her mind clearly traveling to another lifetime.

Morgan could tell she didn't really want to talk about it, but that made him more curious, more concerned. "Did he hurt you?"

"What?" Her head snapped toward him. "No, of course not. He's a good guy."

"Then why didn't you marry him?"

"You aren't going to drop this, are you?"

"No, not while you're trying so hard to hide it."

Prentiss sighed in frustration. "I'm not trying to hide anything, Morgan. I just..." she trailed off, running her tongue over her lips, nervously. "I wanted to marry him, I loved him, but he wanted a Stepford wife and he needed a political wife. I couldn't be one, and I refused to be the other...so, I ended the whole thing."

"Had you already started planning the wedding?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, it was about three weeks before the day. I told him it couldn't work, and walked out of our apartment with a suitcase in each hand. I barely made it to my car, before I dissolved into hysterical sobs."

"I'm sorry, Emily."

She started at that, Morgan very rarely used her first name. Then she shrugged. "It wouldn't have worked out anyway. And, that part was actually easy compared to dealing with my mother and his."

"Not happy about the way you handled it?"

"Pissed, more like. Our mothers had actually set us up while we were in college, you know, well-bred families in the same political circles. We were they're legacy, and I destroyed that. His mother actually called me a harlot."

Morgan looked skeptical. "Isn't that a little Old Testament?"

She smiled. "That's what I said. She didn't appreciate my sarcasm."

It was at that point they got a look at the crime scene, which though it wasn't fresh, still had a swarm of reporters and camera men recording or waiting for more cops to harangue with questions.

* * *

"Bonjour, Mes Amis," Garcia greeted from Reid's phone two hours after their last conversation. "I combed through these ladies' lives with a fine tooth comb, and I may have found something."

"You've got us on pins and needles, Garcia," Rossi said.

"Just how I like ya...but, alright, it looks like victims one through three used the same preschool for their little ones, The Yardley Children's Day School, named for their founder, Joshua Yardley, who believed in giving kids a bright and exorbitantly expensive start. I'm sending the address to your phones now."

"And, the last victim, she didn't have a kid there?" Hotch askeed.

"No, her tyke learned from the teachers at Cheversen Academy, which actually costs a few hundred dollars more than Yardley. Jesus, college wasn't this expensive, even with board, food and beer, of course, that was more than a few years back-"

"Anything else, Garcia?" JJ asked, interrupting tech's babbling.

"Not as of yet, Jayje. I'll call you if I find anything else." Then all they heard was a click.

"JJ and I will go to Yardley. You stay here and keep working on the profile, I'll send Morgan and Prentiss to question the first three families," Hotch rattled off.

"Are you sure you don't want us to handle her ex? I mean if she ended it, he might not be too thrilled to see her?" Rossi pointed out.

"Then he can talk to Morgan. We've still got a lot to cover in these files," he nodded to the mess of papers and folders on the table.

Rossi nodded. "Good luck to them."

Hotch shared a look with him, hoping this guy wouldn't be as unenthusiastic about Prentiss as Mathew Benton's parents had been. That's a hostility that still baffled him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sure thing, Hotch. We were just about to start on the neighbors, you want us work on that now?" Morgan asked into his phone, holding out a hand to stop Prentiss from walking any further. They were still inside the crime scene tape, and so insulated from the reporters out front. Interviewing neighbors was going to be a bitch if the vultures followed them the whole time.

"Right now, finding out if the first three victims' families remember anything suspicious about anyone at the daycare is more important. Besides, I'd rather be questioning neighbors after we after a possible suspect description. If this is going the way I think it is, the suspect might be one of those neighbors," the Unit Chief explained.

"Alright, we'll get on that then." They exchanged goodbyes, and he turned to Prentiss. "Looks like we're heading off to talk the other families now." He explained the theory behind the daycare and what he'd learned from Hotch.

"Okay, who are we starting with?" She turned and headed back to the car.

"Up to you. Do you want to question him first or last?"

Emily stopped and turned toward him, looking apprehensive. "First."

Not what he'd expected, but he shrugged and slid into the driver's seat, and spent the drive over trying to watch her without seeming obvious. When he saw her jaw tense, he knew he'd failed at the 'not obvious' part, and glued his eyeballs to the road. She didn't get fidgety until they got to the door, and Morgan said a prayer of thanks that there were no reporters at the house. He took the initiative to knock, and save her that anxiety.

It took a minute, but a fair-haired man in his late thirties opened the door. The crying baby in his arms was explanation enough for the bags under his eyes, and the impatience within the blue depths. The guy was chiseled beneath his stubble, and looked every bit the country-club politician. Morgan was struck by how much of a contrast he was to Prentiss, and he just couldn't imagine her going for a guy like him. He was too GQ, and he figured she needed someone with a little dirt on his soul.

The man glanced between them, and then lingered on Prentiss, as if he was trying to determine if she was who he thought she was. Something must have told him she was. "Em?"

"Hi Chris." Then she was completely thrown off when he stepped toward her, and wrapped an arm around her, holding her as close as the squirming infant would allow.

Morgan's eyebrows shot up, and he noted his partner's body tense in the embrace. Prentiss wasn't really a PDA person, and this...well, it just had to be awkward for her.

"What are you doing here?" He asked finally releasing her.

Prentiss bit her lip, and pulled out her badge, holding it up for him to see. "We're investigating your wife's death."

"Sarah? Why's the FBI involved?" He asked, talking over the still screaming baby, as he bounced her in his arms, and let them into the house.

"Are you aware there's been other murders in this area?" Morgan asked.

Chris looked at him. "Yeah, in the newspaper, I saw something I think. I hadn't really thought much about it recently, I've been uh, preoccupied."

Morgan nodded. "We believe the same perpetrator who committed those two murders, killed your wife, and another woman last night."

Suddenly looking stricken, Chris fell onto the couch, eyes wide, growing wet. "But...why?"

Empathy etched into her face, Prentiss sat beside him, and rested a hand on the one he didn't have gripping the baby. "With killers like this, there's no reason you'll ever really understand, Chris. But, we're trying to stop him, to get justice for Sarah."

He nodded. "Sarah said one of those women, um Jessica something I think, had a kid at our Yardley-it's the day school our-my-son goes. I never met her, it's a big place, but Sarah said she spoke to her once. She took it hard, she kept saying she couldn't imagine leaving our babies without a mother. It broke her heart to think of that kid growing up without hers." He sighed, tears falling down his face. "And, she's gone now, and I can't get Carrie be stop screaming."

He looked like he was about to lose it, so Prentiss patted his shoulder gently, trying not to be too awkward. "Why don't you give her to me for a minute, take a break."

"That part of your job description?" He asked.

Prentiss smiled. "It's versatile and ever-changing, or so they tell me."

He laughed, though it would have been easy to mistake it for crying, and handed her the screaming baby. She took the infant girl into her arms, and let her rest against her chest, before rising from the couch, and walking to the edge of the room. Both men sat in silence for a moment, and watched her pace slowly back and forth, while running a hand gently over the baby's back. Morgan took the opportunity.

"Did Sarah ever mention problems with anyone at Yardley?"

Chris pulled his gaze from his ex-fiance and his daughter. "Uh, I don't remember. I don't think so. But, it was a preschool, what kind of trouble could there have been?"

"She never mentioned anyone paying her or your son too much attention? Anyone being overly friendly, even solicitous? Someone that just seemed to hang around?" Morgan coaxed.

The widower frowned, silent in thought, before shaking his head. "No, I don't remember anything like that. Not at Yardley, or away from it."

"Alright. We appreciate your time, Mr. Bennett." Morgan got up, glancing over toward Prentiss, to see her laying the now silent and sleeping baby into the bassinet by the couch.

"How the hell do women do that?" Chris asked helplessly, watching the same thing.

"Maternal instinct is what my mother tells me," Morgan answered.

"Chris, do you have anyone to help you? Your parents? Cassie?" Prentiss rejoined them.

"No. My parents died in a car accident last year, and Cass is playing doctor in some godforsaken third-world country. There's people trying to figure out where she is."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't hear about your parents. My mother never mentioned it." She felt terrible that she hadn't known.

"She might not know actually. My mother said some pretty nasty things about you, and your mother basically told her to go to hell, at least that's how my dad described it." He actually chuckled at that.

Prentiss's eyebrows kissed her forehead. Her mother had defended her? "My mother never told me."

"Well, that was always Elizabeth's style." He shrugged. "Thanks for uh..." He waved to the sleeping infant.

"Oh, sure. She's a beautiful baby."

He nodded. "She looks like Sarah."

She offered a sad smile of acknowledgment at that, and nodded toward the door. "We need to go, but here's my card if you think of anything that might help us."

"Thanks, I'll call you if I do." He showed them to the door.

Morgan watched Prentiss as they got into the car; she closed her door, let out a huge, frustrated sigh, and lowered her head into her hands.

"You need a minute?" He asked.

"I need a drink." She didn't move her hands.

He laughed. "Maybe later tonight. Right now, we've got two other families to talk to."

She didn't respond, but rested her head back on the headrest, eyes closed.

He suddenly had an unpleasant thought. "Prentiss, please tell me you're not still in love with that guy?"

Her reaction was vivid. Quick movements, obviously shock. "No! Of course, not. But, I haven't seen him in fifteen years, and the last time I did, it was me making him cry. And, and, jesus, did you see him, Morgan? He's on the verge of a breakdown."

"Yeah, I caught that. I figured we could send victim's services over tomorrow to help him out, alright?"

She fell back against the seat. "That's a good idea. Thanks."

Morgan nodded. "Just do me a favor, Prentiss, alright?"

She looked at him expectantly.

"Remember that fixing that," he gestured to the house, "is not in your job description, versatile though it may be. You might have broken his heart once, but you did not create that, it isn't your responsibility to fix it."

One eyebrow raised, looking rather petulant, she commented dryly. "Thanks for the peptalk. Are we going now?"

Morgan shook his head in frustration, but started the engine, mumbling about stubborn women under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. He didn't miss the little smirk on her lips.

* * *

"I'm Janie Masterson." A dark-skinned woman approached Hotch and JJ, hand extended, warm smile lighting up her face. "How old is your child?"

JJ nearly laughed, while Hotch pulled out his badge and introduced them. "Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau. We're investigating the recent murders in the area, three of the women had children here?"

"Oh my, I'm sorry. Yes, it's horrible. Those kids, I can't imagine how hard it is for them."

The FBI agents nodded. "Have you noticed anyone hanging around here? Someone watching the children, maybe? Or their parents? It could even be another parent?"

Her face went white, and she brought a hand to her mouth. "I, I, no, I don't think so. We're a large place, the biggest in the area, so people are coming and going all the time. We have security cameras and stringent check-out procedures for the children, but as long as no one did anything, they might go unnoticed, especially if it was a parent. Do you...do you think this killer has been here?"

"We aren't sure, ma'am. We're just trying to follow whatever leads we find," Hotch tried to reassure her. "The children of these women, would it be possible to speak to their teachers while we're here?"

"Uh sure, of course. It will have to be one at a time though, by law there has to be a certain ration of adults to children."

"That's fine, we appreciate your cooperation." She nodded at Hotch, and disappeared down the hall of the large center, returning a few minutes later with a young woman in tow.

"This is Melissa Turner, she's Molly Lawson's teacher, Jessica Lawson's daughter." Janie introduced them, before excusing herself to find the other teachers.

Melissa Turner had subdued hazel-green eyes, and tumbles of brown curls pouring down her back. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and wore a large diamond engagement ring on her left hand.

"Molly is a sweet girl, one of my favorites actually. We aren't supposed to have favorites, but we all do. For every kid that's well behaved and fun to teach, there's one that's difficult and makes a habit of trying your patience. Molly loved to learn: words, numbers, shapes, anything really...I went to see her the other day, at the hospital. She still hasn't said a word since that night." The young woman struggled to hold back tears. "There was nothing in her eyes. Like she died with her mother."

"We're very sorry, Ms. Turner. We only have a few questions and then you can get back to your kids," JJ said softly.

She nodded, wiping the tears brimming with her eyes. "Whatever you need."

"Did Molly seem normal those last few days?"

"Yeah, she was a happy kid, as always."

"Did she mention anything about anyone hanging around, watching her or her mother?" JJ continued.

"No, not a word. Do you think he watched them-the guy that killed Jessica?" Melissa rang her hands, and held them intertwined against her chest.

"It's possible. Did Jessica ever mention anything like that?"

"No, nothing like that."

* * *

"Hotch, we just spoke to the last family, and we've got nothing on the daycare," Morgan explained, frustration lacing his words, as he and Prentiss trudged into the conference room the team set up in. They were still reporters outside the police station, shouting the FBI agents coming and going.

"We struck out too," JJ commiserated. She and Hotch had arrived only minutes earlier, equally frustrated by their experience.

"What now?" Prentiss asked, falling into one of the seats, effectively disheartened.

"Reid and I may have another theory," Rossi waved them over with a hand. Reid was beside him at the board, marker in hand, looking a little perplexed.

"We do?" He asked the older man.

Rossi smiled. "Yeah kid, tell them what you thought of."

"Okay...I was thinking with the location of the first three crime scenes, it would make more sense that the unsub was familiar with the area, rather than the people. It seemed weird to me that the one person not at that daycare was also not in the area. The houses are in different neighborhoods, but they aren't that far apart, within jogging distance. It seems plausible that the unsub is a runner whose jogging path goes through these three neighborhoods," he gestured to the blue dots on the board that formed almost a horseshoe.

"And, that means for us? Besides, be prepared for a hell of a foot-chase?" Morgan asked, stretching his arms up above and then behind his head.

"I don't know," Reid answered with a shrug.

They group all turned to Rossi, expectantly.

"If he knows the first three victims because he jogs through their neighborhoods, then he must have a more solid connection to the last one, considering she's all the way on the other side of town. We need to find that connection," he explained, circling the white board around the photo of Moira Durning.

Morgan was already pulling his cell phone out.

"Talk dirty to me," Garcia greeted happily.

"You've got the whole team on speaker, babygirl," Morgan responded smiling.

"Damn. I could so use a little dirty talk. What information do you need me to ferret out, my lovelies?"

Rossi described his hope. "Can you cross-reference all connections of the last victim, Moira Durning to homeowners in the area of the other three victims?"

There was a beat of silence. "Can you please be a little less specific? Guys, I'm good, but that project could take a year. Narrow the area for me."

"Say jogging distance from the first three victims homes," Reid offered.

"Still too vague. Jogging distance for whom?"

"Try ten miles, Garcia. We can expand if necessary," Hotch directed.

"Okay," she paused and they heard a round of clicking. "Now, you want familial connections, friends, coworkers, groccery employees, lawyers, call girls, what?"

"Call girls?" Prentiss asked, have curious, half amused.

"Honey, all these rich guys have a girl or two on speed dial."

"Right," Prentiss answered, sharing a look with JJ, and shrugging.

"Start with family and anyone mentioned in the file. Then expand to coworkers," Rossi said, then looked at them. "Any one to add?"

"You want domestic help too?" Garcia asked.

"No, he'll be at the same socioeconomic level as the victims. His mother had to be at the level of these women, and he'll have grown up in that, even after she left," he answered.

"Alright, I'm running all that now."

"What about the fourth victim's daycare? Cherversen Academy? Try running the other people who have kids there," JJ suggested.

The profilers looked at her curiously, she just shrugged. "We checked out one daycare, why not the other."

There were no objections, as they listened to Garcia's fingers dance over her keyboard at inhumane speeds. The tech decided her curiosity had waited long enough. "So Emily, how was the visit with your ex?"

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"That's it?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Garcia, but there isn't much to tell. He was too busy mourning his wife and dealing with a crying baby to care about an ex showing up," she offered, hoping it would quench the tech's curiosity.

"The poor guy, this has to be so hard," Garcia said, voice soft and sad.

"We're sending victim's services over there tomorrow to help him out, babygirl, don't worry," Morgan reassured her.

"Good. I-" she was cut-off by beeping. "Eureka, we've got results..." she paused while she scanned through them. "This one goes to our lovely media liaison. David and Clarissa Hendershot have two little girls at Cherverson Academy. She's a homemaker, and he's a corporate attorney, and-Oh! Oh, oh, oh...scratch all that. They're got a divorce pending, and he's renting an apartment a few blocks from the house. Irreconcilable differences is what they're using, and he's got a hearing pending with the New York BARR for allegations of impropriety. She's got custody of the kids for now. Stressor anyone?"

The team exchanged looks around the table, before Hotch spoke at the phone. "Good job, Garcia. Do you have an-"

"Address? Of course, you should all hear chirping in two, one, now." Sure enough, everyone but Morgan got a beep from within their pockets. "That has the house, the apartment, and his office."

"Thank you, baby girl," Morgan smiled, knowing she'd hear it in his voice.

"My pleasure, hot stuff. Be safe, crime-fighters!"

* * *

_So, that's chapter three. Thanks for the reviews on the first two chapters, and thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

The two little girls were taking nervous peaks around couch at Prentiss and Reid, while they attempted to speak to Clarissa Hendershot. The rest of the team was at David Hendershot's apartment. They were at the half a million dollar house that Clarissa still lived with the couple's daughters, Madison, five years-old, and Brianna, almost three. It was their job to try and discern Hendershot's mental state while the team either got willing consent to get him to the station, or questioned him as best they could at his apartment.

"Maddy, Brianna, please go to your rooms," Clarrisa instructed her girls, growing more on edge the longer the FBI was in her home. The girls exchanged guilty looks, and scurried up the large oak staircase. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"When was the last time you saw your husband?" Prentiss repeated.

"Oh, yesterday actually. I met him at a park nearby, the girls wanted to see him." Clarissa was in her late thirties, but still as beautiful as any twenty-something. A pure-white smile, perfectly styled haircut, and immaculate clothing said she worked hard to keep looking good.

Reid and Prentiss easily hypothesized that her daily beauty care regimen took hours and included a dozen carefully applied products. She kept weights in her bedroom, a treadmill folded in the closet, a bottle of metabolism boosters in the kitchen, and a brochure for a plastic surgeon tucked away in her nightstand. As far as people go, she wasn't a challenge for them to read.

"How did he seem to you?" Reid asked.

"He behaved himself in front of the girls, but as soon as they started to play on the swings, he started asking to come back again. He was begging and pleading with me, and when I said no, he got angry. He squeezed my wrist, hard, and I knew the divorce was the best idea I've had in a long time." She sighed, seeming exhausted with the whole thing.

"May I ask, when precipitated the divorce?" Prentiss pried gently.

Clarissa shrugged. "He got caught trying to trade on information from a client at work. He's negotiating a severance package with them now, and has to face the BARR in a disciplinary hearing. I don't want my girls to have a criminal as a father, but I was willing to forgive him. But, he got angry, and he was yelling all the time and upsetting the girls. After a couple weeks of that, I'd had enough, and packed his bags for him...I grew up in a house where my parents were constantly screaming over each other...I won't live like that, and I won't let my children live with that."

"So, his behavior at the park wasn't that off then?" Prentiss prompted.

"No, except that he seemed almost desperate. Kind of hysterical, it scared me a little."

"Mrs. Hendershot, did you ever meet your husband's mother?" Reid asked.

"No, I didn't. She left when he was a kid, ran off with the accountant or something, and left him and his brother. I think it still bothers him." Clarissa looked down at her primly folded hands, sighing before looking up at the agents again.

"When you said he grew desperate, what was he saying specifically? Was it that he missed you, or was it more about family structure?" He continued.

She frowned. "Well, I...he said it wasn't good for the girls not to have both of us. Families need a mother and a father, they have to have a mother and a father, he kept repeating that. I didn't think much of it...why do you want to know?"

"We just want to get a clear picture of your husband." Reid smiled that innocent little boy smile he could still pull off, and it seemed to ease her a little.

"I think we actually have enough. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Hendershot." Prentiss rose from the sofa, extending a hand to their unsub's blissfully ignorant wife. Reid followed her lead, and they made a quick exit. Prentiss was already dialing Hotch when the door closed.

"It definitely him, Hotch," she greeted him.

"Yeah, we know." He sounded aggravated.

"Didn't go quietly?" She winced, hoping it wasn't too bad.

"We're on our way to the station now, we'll meet you there." Then he hung up.

* * *

They were both wincing at the bandaged cut on Morgan's head, and the brace on Hotch's left wrist. Apparently, Hendershot had tried to make a run for it, and during that foot-chase, he'd elbowed Morgan in the head, and sent Hotch ricocheting off the side of an ice cream truck to land on his wrist. They were both being silently angry, with a weary JJ babysitting, and Rossi already in the with suspect. It didn't help that the crowd of press outside seemed to have tripled, and squeezing through was like being born.

"I'm going to tell Rossi what we found," Reid backed away from the two men, thumb pointing behind him roughly in the direction of the interrogation rooms.

"So...coffee anyone?" Emily was trying very hard not to laugh at the matching scowls the her colleagues were wearing, or the vigorous head nodding from JJ. "I will meet you all in interrogation then."

On the other side of the glass, they watched Rossi looking perfectly calm and content as he discussed golf with David Hendershot. Since when did Rossi play golf? Reid stood in the corner, partially leaning against the mirror, his back to them.

"Alright David, you have to know you aren't here to discuss golf."

"Why am I here?" he asked. He wasn't a big man, not quite six feet, but he was well-muscled and good-looking in the way that the country-club set tends to be. Good-looking in the same way Chris Bennett was good-looking: chiseled, well-dressed and preppy to the nines.

"Your mother."

"Oh, well I can't tell you anything about her. She left when I was a kid." Hendershot shrugged.

"I know. She abandoned you and your brother, for an accountant was it?" Rossi still maintained his pleasant, conversational demeanor.

The unsub grunted. "A lawyer."

Rossi allowed a wide, closed mouth smile on his face. "Funny that you should become one, isn't it? And, your wife still kicked your ass out the door."

He glared at the profiler, eyes burning as the hostility of a decades-old pain surfaced.

"That's what it was, wasn't it? Your mother and your wife are colliding in your mind, you can't keep them straight. A little weird don't you think?"

Hendershot slammed his hand down on the table. "You don't know what you're talking about.

"Don't I? You saw those women what, fighting with their husbands? Reprimanding their children? You were jogging past their homes, and they were in their yards?" He didn't comment, so Rossi pressed on. "So, you went into their homes when you knew they'd be alone-husbands at work, kids at school, and you grabbed whatever was handy, and slammed it against their heads so hard, you drove pieces of their skulls into their brains. But, you weren't finished then, because when they were dead, helpless, harmless, you remembered your wife. And, you do love your wife, she's the mother of your little girls. And, that was the thought that made you realize, you took away someone's mother. So, you picked them up, and tucked them into bed, like that would fix what you did...It didn't, you know."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Hendershot crossed his arms over his chest.

"Yes, you do. Because, you remember how good it felt to finally hurt her the way you want to so badly, how vindicating it was to destroy her, over and over again. But, it wasn't her, David. Your mommy left you, and she got away with it."

The team turned as the door to the observation room opened, and Captain Cavanaugh came in. He handed Hotch a paper, and conversed quietly about the result of the search of Hendershot's apartment. His assault on two federal agents gave them all the probable cause they needed. Hotch nodded, and followed Cavanaugh out of the room. The other three team members watched him appear on the other side of the glass, and whisper quietly into Rossi's ear.

He was had returned when Rossi began pulling photos from the folders on the table in front of him. He set the photos slowly, one by one in front of David. An eight year-old boy, a six year-old girl, and a two year-old girl, Sidney Thomas's children. A three year-old girl, Jessica Lawson's traumatized daughter, Molly. A five year-old boy, and an infant girl, Jessica Bennett's children. A five year-old and three and a half year-old, Moira Durning's little boys, motherless as of last night.

"You see these eight beautiful children, David? You took away their mothers. Eight children you left motherless." Rossi watched him carefully, studying his reaction.

His hands tensed into fists, he pressed his mouth together, sucking in his lips, then releasing repeatedly, but he didn't speak. Rossi pressed on.

He placed two more photographs on the table. "And, these two children? I think you know them. You've left them fatherless."

Hendershot's head snapped up from the pictures of his daughters to stare at Rossi. "What are you talking about?"

"We found two sets of bloody jogging clothes in your apartment, David. I have no doubts it will match to at least two of these kids' mothers," he pointed to the photos. "You're going to prison, and something tells me, your wife won't be too keen on allowing visitation rights."

"That's not true!" Hendershot jumped up. "That's not true!"

"The next time you see your girls, they'll have kids of their own. And, that's if you ever see them again." Rossi began to calmly gather the photos of the ten children, carefully placing them back into folders.

"No! I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" The furious man was shouting and glaring at Rossi, shaking his shackled hands.

"Do you remember doing it?" Reid asked curiously, finally joining the interrogation.

Hendershot looked at the young genius as if he was seeing him for the first time, and then his anger seemed to deflate as he slid back into his chair. "Only pieces...only fuzzy pieces."

Rossi nodded at Reid and gave him an approving smile, but Reid was watching the broken deflated man sitting before them, fingering a photo of his daughter, one of the ones Rossi had waited to put away. Some days, it felt like there were no winners, only people who lost a little less. That was usually them. They could pack up and go home, put this in the back of their minds, and move on to the next case. But, the case still left ten children missing a parent, four widowers mourning, and one woman questioning everything she thought she knew about her husband, the father of her children.

* * *

"One day, that's got to be a record for us," Morgan commented as they assembled themselves in a booth at an all night diner. It was almost midnight, and they'd arrived in Albany just before noon. They'd be home tomorrow morning. That almost_ never_ happened.

But, right now, they were all tired and hungry. And, JJ had given a press conference about the arrest, and the reporters had finally decided to leave them alone.

"That just means we'll be somewhere else in a couple days," JJ pointed out. "Oh, by the way," she turned to Prentiss, "Garcia says she's already getting the bar you requested together, so be ready to spill."

The profiler rolled her eyes, while the guys chuckled, knowing she'd be accosted as soon as she got off the plane. That was the moment a phone started ringing, and all six of them dived for pockets, praying the ringing wasn't coming from JJ or Hotch. At midnight, that would very likely mean another case.

"It's mine," Prentiss said, frowning at the unfamiliar number on the display. "Prentiss," she answered.

"H-hi Em." A familiar voice surprised her, and she could hear Carrie crying.

"Chris?" She waved to Reid and Rossi to move and let her out of the booth. She was not having a conversation with her ex-fiance in front of the entire team.

"Yeah, I uh, I heard you caught the guy who killed Sarah." His voice warbled, emotions barely controlled.

Emily walked away from the booth, outside the diner. "Yeah, we did. He's in police custody now."

"Thank your team for me."

"I will." She listened, waiting for him to say something else, like why he called. He didn't. "Is everything okay, Chris?"

She heard what sounded like a poorly masked sob, before he spoke. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, like I'm failing Sarah. Carrie just keeps crying and I can't get her to stop, and Kyle keeps having these nightmares, and he wakes up crying, and he begs me to make them stop, but I don't know how. I don't-I don't know what to do, Em."

His voice had gotten steadily louder and more panicked. "Alright, alright. Calm down, you aren't failing Sarah. I'm sure she could understand how hard it is handling two kids alone."

"No, she wouldn't. She was great with the kids, a natural mother. She knew what to do with every little thing, something to make them feel better. _I _can't do this, I can't take care of the kids without her."

"No, that's not true. Maybe the kids are a bit much to handle by yourself, that's why I talked to victim's services earlier today. They'll be there tomorrow morning to help you with the kids, and they'll help you find a nanny for the long term. Okay?"

"Really?" He sounded so pathetic.

"Yes, everything is going to be okay. Alright?" Emily paced back and forth, running a hand repeatedly through her hair.

"Thank you...Em?"

She sighed, a nagging feeling telling her she wasn't going to like his next words. "Yes?"

"Would you...would you come over tonight?" He continued before she could object. "I know you're busy and you're probably leaving tomorrow, but I could really use the help tonight, and maybe someone to talk to...please?"

She ran her tongue over her lips, and looked up at the night sky as if hoping for guidance. Now what the hell was she supposed to do?

* * *

_This isn't the end, more just the beginning. The story is shaping up to be pretty long. Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	5. Chapter 5

Emily had forgotten how persuasive he could be-three weeks before the wedding wasn't the first time she'd tried to call it quits. But, now was different. Now, he needed a friend, and she seemed to be his only option. Decided, she still winced as she answered. "Sure, I'll be over soon as I can."

"Thank you so much, you have no idea."

"You're welcome. See you soon, Chris." And, she hung up before he could say anything further. Then she cursed quietly to herself. Such a bad idea. After a minute, she shook it off, and put on her poker-face to face the team.

"Morgan, I need the keys to the SUV," she greeted, avoiding looking anywhere but him, avoiding the curious, appraising gazes of her all-too perceptive coworkers.

"Oh, tell me you aren't going back over there," he demanded.

"I am."

"Not. In. Your. Job. Description." Morgan stared straight into her eyes.

"I. Know. That." She mimicked him. "You saw how close he was to the edge, Morgan, and he just needs a friend right now."

"And, the man can't find anyone but his ex-fiance that spontaneously showed up back in his life to investigate his wife's murder?"

Hands on her hips, she stared him down. "I am not asking your permission, I'm asking for the damn keys."

"Hotch, help me out," Morgan turned the Unit Chief.

He opened his mouth, but took a minute to develop his very diplomatic response. "I agree that you shouldn't go, but the case is over for us, and he's not a witness, so I can't stop you."

Prentiss nodded to him, and turned to Morgan, holding her hand out. "Keys."

Shaking his head, he pulled them out of his pocket, and rested them in her hand, but didn't let go. "This is a bad idea, and you know it."

Maintaining eye contact, she said, "Add it to the list." Morgan sighed and released the keys. She took them, and was about to turn when JJ's voice stopped her.

"You haven't eaten anything, Emily."

She shrugged. "I ate on the plane."

"That was twelve hours ago," JJ pressed.

Not feeling particularly patient, she grabbed a piece of bread from the basket the waitress had left, and held it up, saying, "I'll see you all in the morning."

JJ didn't even bother objecting, as her friend walked away. Rossi was the first to break the silence. "So, he was actually _happy _to see her?"

* * *

Sometimes, she actually missed the freedom of not having the team, and their slightly bizarre family dynamic. There was a wonderful independence in knowing no one cared what she did, where she did it, or who she did it with. Of course, it was also a little bit pathetic. And, when she thought of that, she felt much more tolerant of the unnecessary (in her mind) worrying and mothering. The team was her family, and that was worth everything.

Even as she tucked her gun in the glove compartment, walked up to the house and pressed the doorbell, she knew they wouldn't be quiet on the flight back. Well, Hotch would be, as the boss, he didn't get to be as nosey as everyone else. And, then when they landed, and Garcia...oh, it was going to be a long day tomorrow.

"Em!" Chris greeted, relief in his voice as he opened the door, looking much the same as he had earlier in the day, including the crying baby in his arms. And, he hugged her, again.

Trying not to be obviously tense, Emily took the baby from him, and began pacing the room, like she had earlier in the day. Carrie settled like a warm, squishy weight on her chest, the literal manifestation of the feeling she'd had since that morning. She turned to see Chris on the couch, head in his hands, elbows on his knees, pain, exhaustion, and stress like a physical weight on his back.

It took an hour. An hour of rhythmic pacing, of rubbing her hand gently up and down Carrie's back, and hour of singing lullaby's so off-key she was surprised it didn't make the infant cry harder in protest. Emily had never been particularly musically inclined. A boyfriend had once described her as painfully tone-def, though in retrospect, he _had_ been kind of an asshole.

Once Carrie had quieted, she gently carried her upstairs, and wandered until she found the nursery. It was full of light, honey colored wood, the pale blue of the sky, vivid green of the jungle, and every color in between. The bedding was mostly yellow, a neutral jungle theme, and little stuffed jungle creatures dangled from a mobile. It wasn't that dissimilar to what she would have picked. Dark wood, maybe, and she favored stars and the night sky, though of course, that was probably ruined after that Angel Maker case.

Careful not to jostle her, Emily laid the baby girl in her bed, and cranked the mobile, just in case. She looked absolutely peaceful and perfect. All chubby cheeks and long, dark eyelashes, fine, light brown hair, and a tiny pink mouth, expressionless in sleep. This beautiful baby girl would never know her mother.

Emily turned, and jumped in surprise. A small boy was standing in the door, watching her curiously, even a little defensively. She put a finger to her lips, and gestured him away from the door. He backed away, and waited until she'd made it into the hall before speaking.

"Who are you?" It was a harsh demand made in a sweet, little boy voice.

He looked a lot like his father. His light caramel-colored hair fell to his ears, curling on the ends, giving him an almost angelic look. He had Chris's nose and chin, and the studious look his father was so good at. But, his smile had to be his mother's, and his gold-flecked brown eyes had to be Sarah's as well.

"My name is Emily, I'm a friend of your Dad's," she said.

"You're a police officer." He pointed with a small finger, at the badge still attached to her hip.

"Yes, I am." Emily decided to forgo a conversation about the difference between federal and local jurisdiction and agencies. Not with a five year-old. "You must be Kyle."

He nodded. "You stop bad people."

She smiled. "I try."

"A bad man hurt my mommy."

"I know. I'm so sorry for that, Kyle."

"Daddy says she's not coming back." The look on the little boy's face was so serious, so determined, it was almost startling.

Emily shook her head slowly, "No, she's not."

"Did you catch the bad man?"

"Yes, he can't hurt anyone else now." The boy only nodded. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He shrugged.

Emily held out her hand. "Why don't you show me where your room is, and I'll tuck you in?"

He seemed to consider that a moment, before taking her hand, and walking her to his room.

It was everything a five year-old boy's room should be. The walls covered in airplanes, the bed a red race car, a fish bowl on the dresser, dinosaur toys of every species and variety, the remains of a train set in one corner, and the colorful, unrefined scribbles of a child taped up over the carefully laid wallpaper. Then there was the dirty clothes strewn everywhere, a sure sign that something wasn't quite right.

"Okay," Emily said, "Hop in."

Kyle let go of her hand, and crawled into the bed, scrambling under the covers. He got comfortable, and then laid there, waiting for her to do what, she wasn't quite sure. She located a discarded, but obviously well-loved stuffed dog on the floor, and handed him to Kyle. The boy clutched the animal to his chest, and curled on his side facing Emily. Still a little at a loss, she pulled the sheets up over him, tucking him in securely, and ran a hand gently over his head.

It turned out, she didn't really need to know what to do. Under her soft strokes, Kyle fell asleep easily and quickly. Then Emily turned around, and jumped for the second time that night.

"Jesus Chris, you scared me," she said, ushering him out of Kyle's room.

"You're good with them." Chris led them to what turned out to be his bedroom, and her discomfort level jumped up.

"They're good kids."

"I haven't been able to soothe them at all." He fell heavily onto the edge of the bed.

Against her better judgment, Emily sat beside him, taking his hand in hers, and giving it a squeeze. "They just need to know that they have one parent left. They're just as scared as you are, Chris."

"I know, I know," he said, nodding. "But, it's so hard."

"And, it will be for a while, but you'll get through it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you don't have a choice. There's two kids down the hall who need you; right now, it doesn't matter how upset or scared or miserable you feel, because you have them." She nodded toward the hallway, not breaking eye contact.

Chris watched her with red, watery eyes, before suddenly wrapping his arms around her, and holding her close. After a minute of shock, Emily relaxed again, until a few minutes later when he was still wrapped around her. She was about to pull away when she felt the subtle shaking in his body, the tremors as he sobbed. So, she swallowed her discomfort, put her arms around him, and let him cry.

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that, until his tears started to dry up, and his body stopped trembling. His voice was so breathy and quiet when he spoke that she had to think a minute, to make sure she'd heard him. "It still feels so good...to hold you."

"What?" She demanded, pulling back.

"I was a mess when you left, Em. I missed you so damn much, it felt like I was bleeding all the time." He held one of her hands in his, as he gazed into her eyes, willing her to feel what he was.

"No, no, no. Chris, do not do this. This isn't what I came here for," Emily begged him.

"I know, but it doesn't matter. Come back to me, Emily. I can't do this, without you, I'm going crazy." He raised his hands, resting them on either side of her face, looking at her with eyes full of affection.

It scared the hell out of her. "I can't. I have a job in another state. And you...you are feeling scared and overwhelmed, and that's understandable, but you don't want me. You don't love me, you love Sarah."

"Sarah's gone, and I never stopped loving you, Em. I need you. Please, come back to me."

"No." She took his hands away from her face, and moved them to his lap. "Please, don't do this, Chris."

"You walked away from me once, I don't believe that you could do it twice." He tried to touch her again, but Emily shook him loose.

"Daddy?" They both whipped around to see a red-eyed Kyle standing in the doorway in his pajamas.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Chris demanded, voice impatient and unkind. The little boy's eyes began water, and Emily glared at him.

"Take it easy," she hissed, before moving toward Kyle, who held his arms up. She obliged, and scoped him into her arms, his legs winding around her waist. She turned back to Chris, "I'll put him back to bed, and then I'm leaving, Chris. I can't do this with you."

With his head resting on her shoulder, Emily carried the boy back to his bedroom, and laid him in his bed, tucking the covers around him again. "Did you have a bad dream, Kyle?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" When he bit his bottom lip, and nodded again, Emily sat in the chair by his bed. "What happened in your dream?"

"The bad man hurt Mommy."

"You remember I told you that we caught the bad man, right?"

Kyle nodded.

"So, he won't hurt anyone again. He's going to jail for a very long time. Do you know what jail is?"

"The place where bad people go?"

She smiled. "Yes, that's right. So, they can't hurt anyone."

Kyle nodded again, wiggling deeper under the blankets. "Can you sing me a song?"

Emily's mouth opened in surprise. "Sure, I guess so."

She sang him two songs, and he didn't seem to notice how terrible her vocals skills actually were. Just like with Carrie, the tunes lulled him to sleep. This time when she turned to leave, she didn't get a scare; no one was waiting at the door. No, she found Chris waiting in the hallway, a serious, determined look on his face.

And, a gun in his hand.

* * *

_And, so you see, I am going somewhere with this, I just wanted it build up to it realistically. Thank you ShaNini86, who is diligently reviewing each chapter, I greatly appreciate that. And on that note, other people are reading this, right? _


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you all very, very much for the reviews, I really appreciate the show of reassurance! The story is going to pick-up and get faster here, so I'm going to try very hard to keep posting every other day. _

_A/N: Here on out is where the warnings are going to get important and the story starts gets dark, so, if you haven't read the warnings in chapter one, please do so. If you chose not to, well you're in for an ugly surprise down the road. _

* * *

**Monday**

"Did she seriously spend the whole night there?" Morgan growled, leaning back against one of the two SUVs present, the third still with Prentiss.

"I just tried calling her again, and again she didn't answer," JJ sighed. She wasn't sure if she was feeling irritated or worried. Both, probably.

"Maybe she fell asleep there," Reid offered, shrugging.

"And, what? Turned off her phone?" Morgan asked, skeptically. They were supposed to have left for the jet an hour ago, but Prentiss wasn't around.

"I don't know, maybe." Reid wasn't any more thrilled to be waiting than the rest of them.

Hotch finally sighed. "Morgan, you and JJ head over to the Bennett house, and find out what's going on. I'll call the airfield and explain the delay."

Nodding, the two agents hopped into an SUV, Morgan at the wheel, and drove across town. Morgan was especially glad to have something to do, some reason to be active and move. Anything, but wait. He hated just sitting around and doing nothing.

The SUV was the first thing they noticed when they arrived at the house. The second was a distinct, overwhelming feeling that something wasn't right. They exchanged looks before heading up to the door and hitting the bell.

No answer. JJ hit the bell again. Another minute of silence, and Morgan began knocking-or pounding more like-on the door. There was still no answer. Another look passed between the two agents, after which they pulled their weapons almost simultaneously, and began to maneuver around either side of the house. Morgan got to the back door first, noted it was slightly ajar, and began to examine the edge for traces of jimmying. There was none.

He glanced at the JJ, gestured to the door, and nodded inside. She nodded in response, and he lead the way into the house. Together, they cleared each room downstairs, finding no trace of Prentiss, the kids, or Chris Bennett. JJ nodded up the stairs, and led the way, Morgan following. They cleared the nursery, Kyle's room, the bathroom, and a guestroom, before hitting the master bedroom.

Morgan glanced behind the closed door, while JJ examined the closet. "Clear," he said.

"Shit," JJ cursed quietly. Morgan spun around.

"What's wrong?"

She gestured to the pile of clothes on the bed-black slacks, black belt, blue button-down blouse, and the boots beside it. "Those are Emily's clothes."

Morgan grimaced. "You're sure?"

"I was with her when she bought those boots."

He nodded then, and yanked out his phone, dialing Hotch.

"What's going on?" Came his boss's curt greeting.

"We've got a problem, Hotch. Prentiss isn't here, nor is Chris Bennett or his children, but we found her clothes in the master bedroom."

"Her clothes?"

"Shoes, shirt, belt, pants," Morgan elaborated, not that it mattered much.

"We're on our way over." And, then Hotch was gone. Shaking his head, Morgan dialed another number, heading downstairs to the garage.

"The Empress of Information, how may I assist you, Mortal?" Garcia chirped happily.

"I need you to look up all vehicles registered to Chris Bennett," he said, already heading out to the garage.

"Emily's ex?" She asked, already clicking away on the keyboard. "Uh, we've got a Lexus RX, red, and a Cadillac SUV, black."

"I see the Lexus. Put an alert out of the Caddy, and then hack into every camera within ten miles of his house, and find me that Caddy. Also, put alerts on his credit cards, debit cards, whatever." Whatever was going on might be completely benign, but Morgan wasn't taking any chances.

"Okay, I just red-flagged him up the wazo, and I'm searching for cameras. So, what's going on with him, now?"

"He's missing. So, are his kids, and Prentiss."

"Emily? What? I'm lost."

Morgan sighed, and rubbed a hand over his head. "He called her last night, she came over to help him out, he was in a pretty bad place, and she didn't meet us this morning. We're at the Bennett's house now, and nobody is home."

"So, what are you thinking happened?" Garcia's chipper voice melted away into worry.

He opened his mouth to respond, but was distracted by JJ walking up to him. She looked very worried, more so than when they found the clothes. She was carrying a black object in her left hand. "Babydoll, I've got to call you back. Let me know if you find that Caddy."

"But, Derek-"

He hung up before she could finish, still studying JJ. "What did you find?"

"Emily's phone and credentials," she held up the objects. Then she flipped open the badge, and Morgan could almost feel the blood draining from his face. Where Prentiss's ID should have been, was a scrap of paper with two words hastily scribbled in Emily's less than elegant handwriting.

_'Psychotic Break_'

"Goddamn it," Morgan muttered.

* * *

Hotch was out of the passenger's side door barely seconds after Rossi got the car into park, jogging up to where two of his agents were waiting, looking very unhappy. "What have you got?"

JJ held up the badge, and ran through what they knew and had done. It wasn't much, but enough for Hotch to pull out his cell, and dial the local field office and Albany PD. Within twenty minutes the picturesque mansion was swarming with police, and overlooking a sea of patrol cars, unmarked vehicles, and a crime scene bus.

The team slipped on booties and gloves, and charged back into the house. With a knot in her stomach, JJ slid Emily's phone and credentials into a plastic evidence bag. She was more than a little worried for her friend, and seeing her belongings labeled evidence was more upsetting than she expected.

"In here!" She turned and followed Rossi's voice into the den, the other three men doing the same.

"Dave?" Hotch asked him. Rossi was crouched behind the large wooden desk.

"There's a safe back here. It was open, and rifled through. My guess is he stored money in here, funds for a rainy day." The older man gestured under the desk, face stoic.

"And, there goes our chance of finding him through purchases," Morgan groaned, then snapped his phone up when it rang. A glance at the display. "You've got us all on speaker, babygirl, say you have something."

"I do. Your man ran a stoplight, so I've got a few nice head-on shots of the inside of the car. Emily's in the passenger's seat, the kids are in the back, they look okay. And, aside from looking really, really, tired and a little pissed, Emily looks okay too, but she isn't in her clothes. It's more upper-middle class housewife, which means-and this is really, really icky-those are probably his dead wife's clothes. And, something tells me Emily would not dress herself in that, and that really, really worries me, so will someone please tell me what's going on?"

They exchanged looks, and Reid finally opened his mouth. "It looks like Chris Bennett suffered a psychotic break sometime last night, and took his children and Emily hostage."

"Wha-oh god. That's bad. That's really, really bad..."

"We'll find them, Garcia," JJ assured her. "What's the time stamp on those stills?"

"Uh, let's see...looks like 3:03, in the a.m. obviously, and I..." she trailed off, but they could hear her talking to herself, like she was trying to figure something out.

"Penelope? You find something else?" Morgan asked.

"Huh? Oh, I...well, I can't be sure, since the picture quality isn't that clear, but uh, I think she's handcuffed to the door."

It wasn't really a surprise, but still a blow to the team's morale. Prentiss was definitely a hostage, along with two young children, and a man on a psychotic break who had eight hours on them.

"Garcia," Hotch got her attention. "Keep checking cameras, any footage you can find on that car, I want everything. See if you can determine a general direction for us."

"Yes, sir. I'll get on that right now." There were no quirky, witty remarks before she hung up, clearly thrown off by the new information.

Hotch turned to JJ, "Get photos of those kids and Bennett, use Prentiss's Bureau photo, I want them on every TV in the state, and surrounding area." JJ nodded, and headed back into the house to make it happen. Hotch turned to his three remaining profilers. "Finish going over the house. Anything that might help get some insight into Chris Bennett..."

He didn't need to finish, all three nodded, and continued to mill around the house. Hotch sighed heavily, and dialed Strauss. For once, she'd be the easy phone call, because his second was going to be Ambassador Prentiss.

* * *

It was almost noon, and the baby was starting to make unhappy, whimpering noises. They'd been driving non-stop since leaving last night, and she'd been handcuffed to the damn door the whole time-with her own handcuffs no less. At least, by now the team would know they were missing, and hopefully, they found her badge.

"We need to stop," she told Chris without looking at him.

"No, we have to keep going." He didn't take his eyes off the road.

"Yes. Carrie needs to be changed and fed, and Kyle needs to eat too. So do I." They'd stopped briefly around seven, so Emily could feed her, but that had been it.

"Fine, I'll fine a drive-thru." His voice held very little emotion, like he was doing it just to shut her up, not because he cared about his kids.

That was an issue she found deeply perplexing. He'd earned her obedience by threatening to kill his own children, but at the same time, he was desperate to keep them together, to pretend they were a family. When he'd held that gun on her and told her that she wasn't going anywhere, Emily hadn't recognized him at all.

The young man with the beautiful blue eyes, the gentle smile, and kind heart. The man that had understood her and challenged her all at once, that she'd loved for three years...that man was gone. This version of Chris was more like the unsubs she'd seen over the years-angry, self-involved, and completely out of touch with reality. And, with this type of unsub, suffering from a psychotic break...there weren't a lot of happy endings.

That didn't bode well for her, or the two innocent children in the backseat.

"What do you want?"

Emily turned startled out of her thoughts to Chris's waiting face. They were at a Wendy's. She shook her head. "I don't care."

He looked at her a minute before sighing, and turned toward the drive-thru window. Emily turned to look out her window, at sunny New Jersey; Chris at been smart, he'd crossed state lines as soon as he could. They'd already been through Massachusetts and Connecticut, and were in the process of crossing through Jersey. She wondered if he actually had a destination, or was just driving. She'd asked earlier, and he'd told her not to worry.

Suddenly, a bag of greasy fast food was in her lap, and they were driving on the highway again. It was another half an hour before he turned off the highway into a small, rather flat-looking town. Through the town and finally down a dirt road, and they were sliding to a stop, finally. He took the food, and handed Kyle his lunch, before unlocking the cuffs keeping Emily attached to the door.

She was surprised to find, when she stepped out of the SUV, that she was a little dizzy. She shouldn't have been surprised, considering how long it had been since she'd had food, but she'd hadn't thought all that much about it. Steadying herself on the door, Emily walked to the driver's side, and pulled open the back door to see little Carrie looking at her curiously.

"Hey sweetie, I bet you're hungry," she cooed to the baby.

Carrie clapped in response, and smiled. Emily unstrapped her, and used the floor of the car as a changing table. As she dug through the bags in the back for a jar of baby food and a spoon, she sent a silent prayer of thanks to JJ for talking her ear off about baby development. Otherwise, she'd have been completely clueless. By the time she finished spooning out mashed peas, she was really starting to feel dizzy, so she grabbed the bottle of pre-made formula, and went back to the front of the car.

Emily let the baby hold her own bottle, and used her free hand to munch on french fries and a chicken sandwich. Chris watched her every move, part curious, part cautious. As if she'd actually run away and leave Kyle alone with him. Unless she was in possession of both kids, and without handcuffs, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Chris, what exactly are you planning on doing?"

"I know of a place, we can stay there for a while, we'll be together." He ran his fingers gently down the side of her face, and smiled at her.

Emily pulled away. "You're a state senator, Chris, and you abducted a federal agent at gunpoint. I know my team, they're at your house right now, they know what's going on, and they will not stop looking until they find me. Do you get that?"

Suddenly he frowned. "What do you mean they know what's going?"

She didn't respond, but noted his increasing anger.

"What did you do, Emily?"

"Nothing. My team is just good."

"You're lying. What did you do?" He demanded.

She only glared in response.

"You left some message didn't you? Damn it, why did you do that?" He inhaled to calm his rising fury, to slow his rapid breathing, and Emily didn't see it coming. The slap sent her head back into the head rest as she cried out, and had her clutching the baby tighter. "Don't screw with me, Em. We'll get through this, we'll be happy, I promise you, you just need to trust me."

She turned away from him, and watched out the window. Her whole body stiffened when he pressed his lips to the side of her head. Then he turned her head, and kissed her on the lips. Much as she wanted to deck him, she had a baby in her arms, and he had a gun in his; Emily held her temper in check.

"We've got one more stop before we get on the highway," he told her. She didn't really care.

She glanced up as Chris started the car, and in the review mirror, caught the frightened eyes, and tear-stained cheeks of confused little boy. She smiled into the mirror, knowing he could see it, and he gave her a restrained smile in return.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks you for the reviews on the last chapter. Here's the next one, thanks for reading, and please review!_

* * *

They were at some hole of a car dealership in Nowhere, New Jersey, when the report came on the radio of their new car. Well, new is a relative term. It was a 1998 silver Dodge Neon that had seen better days, but would be nicely inconspicuous on the road. Chris had negotiated with the shop, the pieces of his Caddy for the Neon, fresh license plates, and no questions. They were only too happy to comply, being of the criminal element as well.

Emily remained cuffed to the Caddy while he transferred everything (kids included) to the Neon. She was uncuffed from the door only for moments before he attached her to the Neon. If she wasn't so damned tired, she might have fought him, or if two kids weren't in danger. It was as he was pulling out, and fiddling with the radio that it came on. He cranked up the volume.

"_Breaking news in now. A New York state senator, Christopher Bennett, has abducted his two small children and an FBI agent. The Bureau is requesting that anyone with information contact their tip line at 1-800-555-9911. We have descriptions for all four persons, starting with Bennett-" _Chris shut off the radio before it could finish.

"I told you, Chris. They won't stop looking." She spoke not looking at him, and her voice soft.

"I guess I'll have to fix that then." He didn't say anything else, but drove down the road, further into the sleepy little town.

Emily could feel her eyes starting to drift shut, the need for sleep intensified by the soft motions of the moving car. She fought it, blinking and periodically jerking awake after her eyes did shut. When the car suddenly stopped, it startled her awake, and she realized she'd really fallen asleep.

They were in the back of a parking lot of a drug store, far away from anyone else. Chris killed the engine and removed the keys. She expected him to head directly into the store, but instead, he opened the back driver's side, and pulled out a nonsense-babbling Carrie. Kyle was asleep, exhausted from the fear and confusion, and being dragged out of his home when he should have been sleeping.

Emily was further surprised when he set Carrie gently into her arms-or rather arm, since the other wasn't much use cuffed to the door. Chris took the edge of the blanket, and tucked it over the silver cuffs, covering them from anyone's view. He let the baby grab his finger, and smiled as she gurgled excitedly at him. Then he placed a delicate kiss to her head, and managed to capture Emily's lips before she could object.

"Don't try anything, Em. Don't break my heart again." Then he disappeared, headed for the store.

She was left to sit and wait, and close her eyes as the past threatened to choke her. His kiss was how she remembered it-soft and gentle, and so full of affection it terrified her. That fear was from the past and the present. Emily had been so in love with him fifteen years ago that she'd almost sacrificed what she wanted to his dutiful wife, mother to his children, and his greatest political champion. That feeling had been as terrifying as it was wonderful, but in the end it hadn't been enough.

John Lennon was full of shit. Love wasn't all you needed in a relationship.

But, now Chris was somehow capable of waving a gun around, threatening his own children's lives and hers, and hitting her. The only place he'd ever been aggressive was the political arena, never would Emily have entertained the notion that he'd ever abuse a woman. He was one of the nice guys. She'd always blamed the failures of their relationship on herself.

Emily looked down at the baby cradled in her arm, the sweet little girl who, like her older brother, inherited her mom's beautiful brown eyes. Carrie was perfectly innocent, and should have had a beautiful ideal life in Albany with her mom and dad. But, this story wouldn't end happy. Carrie would at the very least, not grow up knowing her mother or father. She and Kyle would struggle through their lives to try and understand what happened with their father.

If they all lived through this.

* * *

"Hello sir," a chirp of a voice greeted.

"Garcia, you have the team," Hotch told her, holding his cell phone out so everyone could hear. They were in the same conference room that they'd worked the case in, though now they all looked worried.

"I got them going through tollbooths into Massachusetts, Connecticut, back into New York, and I'm still searching. It's taking way longer than it should to drive those distances, but I think he's taking a lot of back roads, hoping not to be seen. Based on his trajectory, I'm thinking he went into New Jersey, but I'm still working on hacking their system. I did get some information on Chris Bennett though, and it isn't exactly happy."

"Could it be worse?" Reid asked, completely serious.

"Oh, my sweet, young genius, it can always be worse." Garcia's normally cheerful, energetic voice sounded almost mournful.

"What do you have, babygirl?" Morgan asked.

"Uh well, you guys didn't happen to find a gun there, did you?"

"No, there was no gun. He has a permit?" Hotch said.

"Yep. 38 Smith and Wesson. He's had it for about six years. That's the first bit of bad news, my friends. The second is bank statements. I got into his account, and went back as far as I could, about 2000. Bennett was seeing a Dr. Robin MacNamara on a weekly basis until shortly before he married Sarah in 2002. I did a little looking and found that Robin MacNamara is a shrink in Connecticut. I called and Bennett's been seeing her since March 1995, which, I don't need to remind you all, was shortly after Em left him. MacNamara wouldn't tell me anything else. Her records aren't in an online database that I've been able to discern, so we can't circumvent the law on this one, kids. You'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

"A warrant." JJ sighed and ran a hand through her hair. That didn't really have time for that.

"Yep. Sorry guys. I'll continue my information hunt, and try to track them through Jersey. Garcia out." And, she was gone.

"Dave, take Reid and head to Connecticut. I'll work on having a warrant there by the time you arrive. JJ liaise with New Jersey, Delaware, Pennsylvania and Maryland state police, tell them what's going on. Morgan, I'll give you the number for Ambassador Prentiss; she's in Argentina right now, but I need you to get her on the phone and find out everything she knows about Chris Bennett. We'll take the plane back to Quantico, and then I'll send it to Connecticut to retrieve you." He nodded to Rossi and Reid.

Everyone filed out the door, and to the SUVs. JJ was already on the phone with someone when she got into the back of an SUV with Hotch and Morgan. Hotch pulled his out after snapping in his seatbelt, and proceeded to update a tight-lipped Strauss on the situation.

They hadn't found too much useful at the house. It was the perfect existence until Sarah Bennett was murdered, and then it seemed her widower spiraled out of control. It made Hotch wonder though, did Prentiss's renewed presence in his life precipitate the breakdown? Or, would it have been worse without her? Would he have simply executed his children and then taken his own life?

That very scenario was what he feared now.

* * *

"Babydoll, work your magic, and set me up with a video phone call to Ambassador Prentiss." Morgan strode into Garcia's lair, voice as smooth as silk.

"Video phone call? You're so cute when you sound like you walked out of the nineties," she teased.

"Well whatever you call it."

"Well, skipping all technical jargon, most people call it Skype. Grab a chair, handsome." Penelope swung over to an unused monitor, and drummed over the keyboard, doing god only knew what.

Morgan did as commanded, and sat beside her, studying the monitors that circled her body on a daily basis. One up on the wall seemed to hold a constant newsfeed, CNN it looked like. He wondered how many times Garcia had looked up and seen Emily's face on that screen today. Another screen was split into four, and held grainy footage into the front of the SUV. Three from the tollbooths and the one she'd found off the red light camera in New York. Garcia had been right, it was hard to tell anything from the poor footage, but it was pretty clear Prentiss was handcuffed to the door.

The other monitors held maps, databases searching...well, he didn't know what, records of some kind, and so many other things, his eyes tried to stage a rebellion. "How the hell do you ever know what you're supposed to be looking at?"

Garcia turned from the monitor to look at him pointedly. "I've been telling you for years, I'm a goddess. Did you doubt me, mortal?"

"Not if you get that phone-skype thing working."

"Two more seconds. I'm messaging with her secretary...and, here you go."

"Yes?" A troubled-looking Ambassador appeared on the screen. Morgan and Garcia quickly switched spots.

"Ambassador, I'm Derek Morgan, I work with your daughter-" She cut him off.

"Yes, I remember you, Agent Morgan. Have you found Emily, yet?"

"I'm sorry, we haven't. I have a few questions though, if you don't mind." Really, even if she did, he'd still insist on asking, he was just being polite.

"Of course not."

"What can you tell me about Chris Bennett?"

The ambassador sighed. "I couldn't have imagined him capable of this...he loved Emily, very much. Whatever I know about him is over a decade old, Agent."

"It's more than we have now." He could feel Garcia by his shoulder, watching nervously.

"Alright. He came from a good family, his father was a state senator, his mother was his father's campaign manager and a homemaker. His baby sister is the black sheep of the family, always intent on saving someone or something. I'd heard rumor in recent years that he had a good shot of rising to the national senate. When I knew him, he was much more conservative than Emily, but that didn't seem to bother them. Their graduation dinner was like watching a televised debate except without any rules, they loved to argue. I assume you don't need to be told, my daughter is very...spirited." The FBI agent and the tech both smiled at that. "I think that's why they were so good together, he was as passionate and stubborn as she was, and he wasn't intimidated by her. Back then, I was sure I'd be a grandmother before I turned sixty..."

"Their break-up was a surprise," he said.

She scoffed. "Now that's an understatement. I thought she was being difficult, but I realized eventually that that wasn't an easy thing for her to do."

"You had a falling out with Chris's mother?"

"I didn't tell Emily about that."

"Chris mentioned it, said you and his mother stopped talking."

"No. Blythe was very angry, and she got angrier as Chris became more of a mess. I may not have approved of how Emily handled things, but I can only tolerate so much slander of my child."

Morgan frowned. "Chris took it very badly?"

"You have a knack for understatement, Agent Morgan. Chris became very, very depressed, and I think he started seeing a psychiatrist or something. I know that it got bad enough that his sister was staying with him, but before that, he was the most stable young man I'd ever met. I was impressed enough with him to be thrilled with their engagement. I'm afraid I don't know much more than that."

"I appreciate your time, Ambassador."

She nodded, and seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, long enough for Morgan to see her confidence waiver. "You'll keep me updated on Emily?"

"Of course...we'll find her, Ambassador. We won't stop looking until we do."

"Thank you." For a minute before the connection ended, Elizabeth Prentiss looked just a little bit lost.

* * *

"Thank you all for coming, tonight," JJ began the press conference, something she'd done a hundred times. But, never with the tight knot sitting in her chest as it was now. "As you all know some time before 3 am this morning, New York State Senator Christopher Bennett abducted his two children and a federal agent. Bennett's wife, Sarah was murdered five days ago, and the Bureau has made an arrest in that case, your press packets will have more information if you need it. We now believe that Bennett is suffering from a psychotic break, which makes him delusional and dangerous. He has a history of depression, and we believe that his wife's death triggered the psychotic episode. It should also be noted that Bennett is armed with a firearm, and we believe that he is likely to use it if he feels threatened. There are copies of photos of Bennett and his two children, five year-old Kyle and six-month old, Carolyn in the packet. There's also a photo of the agent he abducted, Emily Prentiss, a member of the Behavioral Analysis here at Quantico. We believe Bennett has a considerable amount of cash at his disposal, and is driving a black 2009 Cadillac Escalade. We are asking that anyone, with any information about Bennett, the children or Agent Prentiss please call our tip line at 1-800-555-9911. I'll take a few questions now."

She pointed to a man wiggling his hand in the air. "What makes you so certain Bennett is suffering a psychotic break? That your agent didn't go with him willingly?"

"I'm not at liberty to comment on that, but I can say that we know with a certainty that Agent Prentiss is being held against her will."

She took another question. "Is it true that Senator Bennett and Agent Prentiss have a history together?"

JJ tried not to look annoyed, but at least this, she was allowed to answer. It would have been easy information to get anyway. "Yes, they attended Yale together."

"Isn't it true they were engaged?" The same woman asked.

"Yes, they were."

She waved to someone else. "Have you had any contact with Agent Prentiss or Senator Bennett since the abductions?"

"No, we have not."

JJ picked another person. "How do you know she or the children, or even Bennett are still alive?"

The media liaison swallowed, the reporter tapping into one of her fears. "We know they were alive as of 10 am this morning."

"That was almost seven hours ago?"

"We don't believe Bennett wants to kill them, his delusion is based on the need to maintain his family. We don't believe he'll harm them unless that delusion is threatened, but that said, it should be remembered that Chris Bennett is very dangerous right now. We'd like to get his children and Agent Prentiss to safety as soon as possible." Hands continued waving around in the air with accompanying shouts. JJ silenced them quickly. "That's all the questions for now, thank you all for coming."

She hurried off the stage to the little anteroom behind the press center, and leaned with her back against the wall, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

JJ's eyes flew open, and she titled her head back to look at Hotch. "I've never had to talk about one of us in a press conference before."

"You did a good job," he answered.

She nodded. "It's different when it's personal...harder."


	8. Chapter 8

_Here's the next chapter, this one's only broken into two parts, so it might feel a bit slower. Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, and thanks for reading this one!_

* * *

"Don't be so harsh with him," Emily scolded Chris as he held Kyle hard to keep him still.

"If he would sit still I wouldn't have too." Chris was busy squirting red hair dye onto Kyle's wet hair. His own head was already slathered in red dye that looked like blood against the translucent gloves over his hands.

Emily's dark hair was matted to her head with what looked like foam, but was actually cream bleach-the whitest shade of blonde he could find. She shuddered at the thought of what trashy shade of orange it would turn her hair. Or peach, depending on how light it went. She didn't have much, but there was enough natural red in her color to get orange from almost-black brown.

He hadn't forgotten to put dye in her eyebrows, so they matched her hair. And, as if dying it blonde wasn't bad enough, he took a pair of scissors to her head, before he put the dye in. Her dark hair was still all over the bathroom floor. The bathroom, which absolutely wreaked of ammonia, the bathroom where she was handcuffed to a towel rack.

"I don't like it, Daddy! It tingles!" Kyle whined.

"It won't be on that long, Kyle. Sit in the bathtub," Chris directed him. The boy crawled into the bathtub and drew his knees up to his chest, looking toward Emily. She gave him a soft smile, hoping to reassure him. This time he didn't smile back at her, he just looked lost.

Chris turned the water on in the sink, and began washing the dye out of his hair and eyebrows. Carefully and slowly, it went down the drain looking for all the world like he was washing blood from his hands. Emily hoped she wouldn't have to see that in the coming days. After a few minutes, he ran a towel over his head, leaving red stains on the motel white, and pulled Kyle out of the tub, and over to the sink.

"Close your eyes, Kye," he instructed, lifting the boy with one hand, and working the red dye out with the other. Kyle held onto the sink, and made little whimpering noises.

He didn't drag Emily to the sink for another thirty minutes, having carefully read the instructions on the box. To strip hair as dark as hers, more than ten minutes was needed, closer to an hour. She squeezed her eyes shut while he worked his fingers through her hair, his body pressed flush against hers. He'd been touching her and kissing her regularly, like she was his wife, not his hostage.

It was difficult; his touch, his taste were still familiar to her, even after fifteen years. Never had being held or kissed by him revolted her before-she'd felt loved by it once upon a time. Now, she wanted to break the fingers that held her so she couldn't move. When she tasted his lips on hers, she wanted to vomit.

He finished at the sink and handed her a towel, watching her dry her hair, before escorting her back into the motel room. The baby was still in her carrier, down for the night, and Kyle was sitting in front of the TV.

"Kye, get your pajamas on, it's time for bed." The boy looked up at his father, and then crawled off the floor. When he caught sight of Emily's new dark yellow mop, his mouth made an 'O' and his nose wrinkled.

"Yeah, I thought the same," she mumbled quietly to herself.

"You too, Em. We're all going to bed."

"Can I at least change in the bathroom?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm not taking any chances."

Gritting her teeth together so hard, she could have cracked them, Emily snatched the bag of clothes from his wife's closet and dug through it until she found nightclothes. She was not happy to find only satin, lace-trimmed nightgowns. She yanked one out, and held it up to Chris.

"You're kidding right?"

He shrugged. "Sarah always liked delicate things like that, she said they made her feel pretty and feminine."

And, vulnerable, Emily added to herself. It was pretty, lilac with a slightly darker purple lace for trim, and another time, and she might have worn something like it. Darker or brighter colors though-Emily didn't possess the soft look necessary to pull off pastels. She turned to check that Kyle was back in front of the TV-now wearing puppy pajamas, and Chris was standing on the other side of the bed, watching her carefully. Emily turned, and began pulling off her clothes, and yanking the negligee on over her bra and underwear.

"Come on, Kye." The boy moved to shut off the TV, but not before Emily got a glimpse of JJ at a press conference. It was a small comfort.

Kyle tugged on her dress, and asked her in a voice just above a whisper. "Can I sleep with you?"

Emily smiled at him. "Sure." She gestured him onto the bed, and he shook his head, not wanting to be next to his father. Emily got into the bed, turned on her side, and held the blankets up for Kyle. He crawled up then, and curled himself into the curve of her body, his head resting against her chest.

The bed shook as Chris got in, and cuffed her to the bottom of the headboard. Emily sighed in resigned frustration, and wondered if she'd have any flesh left on her wrists before this was all over. Her thoughts were cut-off abruptly when Chris was suddenly molding his warm body against hers, snaking an arm about her waist and pulling her tight against his body.

Emily tensed and a shudder ran through her body when he nuzzled against her neck, and placed kisses along the bare skin there. She'd never felt so trapped in her life, so utterly helpless and alone. It occurred to her that this was what so many of the victims the team encountered had felt when they found themselves held down in restraints and at the mercy of a killer. It was not a parallel she wanted to think about.

She took a breath in that shook all the way down into her lungs, and lifted an unsteady hand to Kyle's head. With nothing else to do, Emily stroked the boy's head, soothing him into sleep. It was unlikely she'd get much herself.

* * *

Reid often wished his memory recall wasn't so flawless, there were a lot of things he didn't need to remember in vivid color. And, there were a lot of statistics he didn't need running through his head when he was already worried. Right now, he was wishing he didn't know as much as he knew.

He knew that 2300 people went missing every day. That almost 65% of these were people under 20 years of age. That most of these people were runaway kids or adults who disappeared of their own free will. That less than a percent of missing persons actually qualify as stranger abductions. And Spencer Reid knew, of the 840,000 people that disappear every year, 10 percent or 84,000 of them, never make it home.

It was just after midnight. If they didn't find Emily by this time tomorrow, she had a 50 percent chance of being among those 84,000 people.

As he and Rossi entered the BAU, Reid diligently kept his eyes off the pod of desks, he, Emily and Morgan occupied, because he knew he'd inevitably start imagining her not being there. It hurt to think of the woman who had become like a big sister to him just not being there anymore.

"You guys get anything from the shrink?" Morgan popped up beside them.

"Yeah, get everyone in the conference room," Rossi instructed.

Morgan nodded and hurried off to find JJ and Garcia. Rossi and Reid headed up the stairs, Rossi toward Hotch's office, and Reid toward the conference room. He sat tiredly in one of the seats, hands still wound anxiously around the strap of his messenger bag. He carefully pulled the file they'd liberated from Bennett's shrink out of the bag, and set it before himself. He and Rossi had already gone over it at the office, and more thoroughly on the plane.

It did not hold good news.

"You okay, Spence?" Garcia asked, sliding in beside him.

"Just worried, I guess..."

She gave him a little bump and a half hug. "We'll find her. Just remember, we found you."

He nodded and offered her a tight smile, as the others began pouring in. They assembled themselves around the table, all looking stressed and weary, but not even slightly tempted to give in for the night. They'd probably all go until tomorrow night hit and they couldn't keep their eyes open anymore. Hopefully, they wouldn't have too.

"So, what was Bennett seeing the shrink for?"

"Major Depressive Disorder was Dr. MacNamara's diagnosis, brought on by his fiancée leaving him," Rossi said.

"And, do you two agree based on what's in his file?" Hotch asked, voice emotionless.

Rossi turned to Reid, giving him the floor.

"To an extent. Bennett exhibited many of the classic symptoms of depression-depressed mood, anhedonia, lack of appetite, lack of interest, difficulty sleeping, stunted emotional scale, and the feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt that often accompany this type of trauma, but in the first month, he also showed clear, albeit mild symptoms of psychosis. Uh, mild delusions, and his speech and behavior showed subtle signs of disorganization. He didn't experience any hallucinations or severe delusions, so it wasn't a psychotic episode, but I think it was a clear precursor to what's happening now," the genius explained, waving around his hands in nonsensical patterns.

"You mean that he's a looney?" Garcia asked, earning subtle signs of amusement from the team.

"Actually, it's called Brief Reactive Psychosis or Brief Psychotic Disorder, in this case characterized by a trauma or stressor that triggers the psychosis, and that the state lasts for under a month. In this case, the death of his wife in combination with a replay of the earlier trauma-Emily leaving him-caused the break. At least, if he comes off it within the next 29 days."

"Is this something a person can recover from?" JJ wondered, twisting her pen slowly between her fingers.

"It depends on the severity of the episode. In this case, I'd say recovery is possible, but highly unlikely."

"So, what does this all mean for Prentiss?" Morgan asked.

Rossi inhaled. "It's like this...you said when Bennett saw her yesterday, he looked relieved, he hugged her, was very grateful to her for helping quiet the baby, right?"

Morgan nodded. "Yeah, she tried to be nice, but she was uncomfortable."

"Bennett would have been oblivious to her discomfort. For the last week, this guy has been struggling to take care of his kids, and cope with the loss of his wife-another woman abandoning him. First, Prentiss leaves him fifteen years ago, then a year ago his mother is killed in a car accident, and a week ago his wife is murdered. Suddenly, in the midst of all this pain and hell he's in, the first woman that abandoned him returns, ready to offer him sympathy and help. To this guy, at this moment in his life, it must have felt like God himself offered him a reprieve. He immediately latches onto her, calls her last night for help with the kids. Prentiss, of course, goes over, and gets the kids to sleep for him. Now, at some point before three a.m. she tells him it's time for her to go, she's got a team to get back too. _That's_ when he snaps. He can't be abandoned again, and he can't lose the little bit of light he's got in all that darkness. His solution is to pack everyone up, and get the hell out of dodge. He isn't so far gone that he forgets who she is, and that we'll come looking for her. But, when he left, he knew what he was leaving behind, and what his ultimate goal is: keeping his family together. He's got his kids, his got his wife, and he's going to make it work, as long as he can."

"But, Prentiss isn't his wife," Morgan seethed. "She isn't his anything."

"No, she's not," Rossi agreed, "But, I'd be willing to bet in his mind, the second she walked in that door last night, she was saying she was his."

"So, he's not just going to snap back to reality and let her go," JJ said.

"Probably not," Hotch answered, studying the file Reid and Rossi had come back with. "He's got a mentality more like a mass or spree killer now. His family is stabilizing him; they're they only thing he's got to lose. If he does think he'll lose them...he'll kill them."

"Well, Reid said this psychotic state was only supposed to last a month," JJ said, "So after that?"

Reid shook his head. "It could persist, in which case it would be reclassified as another psychotic disorder. And, even if his psychotic symptoms do remit, the shock of that change, and the realization of what he's done could have fairly devastating consequences."

"So, what you're saying," Garcia began, "is that if we chase him we could push him over the edge, and if we don't he could go over all on his own?"

"He's already over the edge, we just need him to keep his grip on the ledge long enough to get the kids and Prentiss out of harm's way." At Rossi's words, the tech covered her mouth with one hand, and grasped Morgan's hand with the other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Tuesday**

In the light of day, her hair looked obscenely yellow. Not orange, as she'd expected, but yellow. Dandelion-fucking-yellow. Complete with an uneven cut two inches above her shoulders, and a bruise on the left side of her face where he'd slapped her. Chris had turned her into the white trash queen. Excellent. He and Kyle didn't look much better with a bright cherry-orange on their heads. It looked more natural than her mop, but that wasn't saying much. At least he had left her bangs alone.

Emily was now sitting on the closed toilet, one hand cuffed again to the towel rack, and the other holding a crying Carrie against her shoulder. Chris took Kyle and went to get breakfast and fill the Neon's gas tank. He'd promised her coffee teasingly, saying how much he knew she needed it. Emily had always needed her coffee in the morning to be even remotely civil to others, Chris had been good about that when they were together. Now, he was teasing her, kissing her passionately, and leaving her handcuffed in a shitty motel bathroom.

And, she barely slept last night.

Every time her eyes drifted shut, her mind objected and dragged her back awake. Or, Chris or Kyle moved and jolted her back to her nightmare. The little period she did sleep a bit, she dreamt about the house she was helping Morgan fix. It was only a short glimpse, but they'd both been smiling. She'd caught him checking out her legs, and he'd been completely unabashed. Then she'd woken up to this hell.

She bounced Carrie one-armed, and tried to coo to her, but the baby wasn't about to be appeased. She was wet and hungry, and she wasn't going to stop crying until those problems were fixed. Emily didn't hear the door over the baby, but she heard Chris yell.

"We're back, Babe!" Like it was fifteen years ago, and they were still dating.

Prentiss maneuvered herself into a standing position with considerable difficulty, and pain in her cuffed wrist. Calm as anything, Chris carefully unlocked her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"Can you take her? I need to use the bathroom."

Chris nodded, and accepted his daughter with a smile, but he didn't go far, remaining instead in the doorway.

Emily looked at him. "Do you mind?"

"No chances, remember? Go now, or hold it." He bounced the baby, and smiled at her. Her tears dried up briefly as she grabbed his nose.

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Emily pulled up the black knee-length skirt that didn't fit her quite right, but went lovely with the baby blue sweater set, and yanked down the panties that were not hers. Glaring at him, she did her business, pulled the clothes back on, and washed her hands in the sink.

"See not so bad," he said, smiling and handing the baby back to her. "Go to mommy, Peanut."

Emily started at that. "I'm not her mother, Chris."

And, it was so sudden it nearly knocked her back. His eyes went ice cold, as he grabbed a handful of her hair, and pulled her face close to his. "We're a family now, Em. A family."

"Okay...okay, we're a family, Chris," she spoke slowly, carefully.

Just like that, he let go and the storm passed. Emily held the baby close as she searched for the diaper bag. Kyle was already watching TV and munching on pancakes and bacon.

* * *

Rossi stood up on the scaffolding, leaning on the railing and observing the BAU agents he'd been working with for over three years. It wasn't like it had been in his day, they didn't operate as individuals, but as a cohesive, high-functioning unit. He'd learned there was a lot of benefits to that system: different strengths working together, several minds to see things all different ways, and they always had each others backs. Both in and out of the field.

And then, there were drawbacks. Namely the one he was witnessing now-they cared too damned much about each other. They were as close as family (even closer than some), and things like this...it was hard when they were just friends and colleagues. Cops always took injury to their own personally. This was more than that, this was a team running themselves into the ground to try and save one of their own, and the two little children she was protecting.

It was just after 2 pm. Lunch time had been in the conference room as they went over all the information they didn't have. Leads were few, the last being Garcia's tollbooth camera shot of them heading into New Jersey. It was a small state, but it was the most densely populated in the country. People could blend in and disappear.

That tip was from last night.

Morgan was hunched over at his desk, head in his hands, presumably studying the stack of tip line reports in front of him. He was tense, barely containing his frustration, and Rossi figured he'd be in the gym pounding a bag by dinnertime. He had noticed Morgan and Prentiss had gotten closer the last few months, and the younger man was taking her abduction very hard.

Reid was leaning back in his chair, very deliberately not letting his eyes wander beyond his space or Morgan's. He had gotten through his stack of tips, and was running through the psych file on Bennett for the fifth time. Not that he'd forgotten a word of it. There was a legal pad with scribbles on his desk, shorthand only Reid himself would be able to decipher.

JJ's eyes were bloodshot. He'd noticed that during their lunch conference, he didn't think he'd ever seen the blond with bloodshot eyes. She'd spent the conference rubbing her head, trying to alleviate the headache that wouldn't leave. 36 hours on the phone will do that to a person. She sat with the boys, at Emily's desk, scratching angry pen lines onto false tip sheets.

Garcia had been red-eyed at lunch, convinced she'd failed them and Emily by being unable to locate the SUV beyond that Jersey tollbooth. She hadn't, Bennett had probably just dumped his car. It didn't matter, the tech had been determined to get every bit of information available on the man. Penelope Garcia had literally tracked down Chris Bennett's kindergarten teacher (in Florida with all the other retirees). She was locked away in her office.

Hotch had sealed his poker-face on, refusing to let anyone see even the tiniest bit of emotion. He'd updated Ambassador Prentiss and Strauss again shortly after their meeting, Rossi had heard the calls from his office. Neither woman was happy with their lack of progress. Rossi only had to turn to get a glimpse of the Unit Chief in his office, flipping through his own thick report of useless tip line garbage. Like Garcia, he blamed himself-it was his team, his responsibility to protect them. It didn't matter that they were adults, trained FBI agents. They were _his_ team.

"They aren't going to last much longer, Aaron." Rossi walked into Hotch's office and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Hotch looked up, slightly startled. "I know...if we don't get a new lead, I'm going to send them all home...Start fresh tomorrow."

Rossi nodded. "It's the right thing to do."

"It doesn't feel that way." No, of course it wouldn't. Halting the search, even for just a night, felt like giving up on her.

"Prentiss is smart and she's strong, more importantly, she's trained to read behavior, she'll keep herself and those kids alive until we find them." He felt confident in that, and yet, still afraid for her.

"He's psychotic right now, Dave. They're unpredictable, her training means nothing now."

"Not nothing. And, we aren't giving up Aaron, just recharging. Six people too tired to function won't be able to find her. Remember that when you give that order tonight."

Suddenly, there was movement at the door. Reid looked energized, a paper in his hand. "I think I've found a lead."

* * *

"Emily?" Kyle's hesitant little voice emanated from the backseat and startled her.

"Yes? Do you need something?" She looked in the rear-view, unable to turn while cuffed to the door. He wore a blue baseball cap with some cartoon character on his head. Chris had purchased the hat with the dye, along with ball caps for both of them, and two pairs of sunglasses. Unfortunately, he wasn't stupid, and knew how to hide from cameras.

Kyle shook his head. "Are you my mommy now?"

Her deep inhalation was a hiss, and she turned to the window, noting Chris was still pumping gas into the Neon. They were the only ones at the middle of nowhere gas station in East of Nowhere, Pennsylvania. There was an attendant inside, but that was it. Chris had picked it specifically for this reason. She turned back to the boy, his red hair still a shock to her eyes.

"No, Kyle, I'm not, but you need to call me mommy while your daddy is around, alright?"

He nodded. "Why is daddy so mad?"

Emily sighed and ran her tongue over her lips, trying to figure a way to explain the situation to a five year-old. "He isn't mad at you. He's just...he misses your mommy a lot, and it hurts him that she's gone. But, he still loves you very much."

"I miss mommy too."

Emily's gaze softened. "I know you do, sweetie."

"Emily, where are we going?" His sad face took on a look of innocent curiosity.

"I don't know, I think your daddy wants it to be a surprise for us." That wasn't entirely a lie.

"Are we moving to a new house? My friend Taylor moved to a new house, he's not at school anymore."

Emily had to smile at that, that sweet innocence in his words. "I don't know, maybe."

"Are you gonna live with us?"

How the hell was she supposed to answer that? Chris's door opened, and saved her from figuring that out. He pulled a chocolate Nesquik from the bag and handed it to Kyle, who grabbed it with a big smile. Two bottles of water went into the cup holders in the front, and he cracked Emily's so she'd have an easier time opening it.

Then he pecked her on the lips and smiled.

* * *

"Can you point out the man you saw here yesterday?" Morgan held the six-man photo array for the 17 year-old boy that had called the tip line.

He had clearly just come off a shift, the lingering smell of grease enough of a giveaway that the Wendy's uniform would have been unnecessary. His shaggy blond hair needed to be washed, and his pimpled face could have used a dose of astringent, but then that was part of being a teen.

After Reid's find in his second stack of tips, Hotch had sent them to Jersey to question the boy. They needed a clean definite ID, because a false one could do their investigation a lot of harm.

"This one. A number 2, number 3 and a chicken tenders kids meal." The kid pointed to the photo of Chris Bennett.

"You remember that?" Reid asked, puzzled.

The boy shrugged. "It's not everyday that I see fugitives come in through the drive-thru."

The genius shrugged, but pressed on. "What else did you see?"

"Uh, I didn't see more than a glimpse in the back, but I got a good look at the wife." He seemed to blush as he said this.

Morgan rolled his eyes, not sure what pissed him off more. "She's not his wife. Did you happen to notice anything while you were checking her out?"

The teen grew redder. "Uh, she looked pissed, and kind of tired. And, I think she was holding onto the door, but there was a sweater or something covering her hand."

"She was handcuffed," Morgan clarified.

The kid winced. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"Other than angry and tired, she was unharmed?" Reid asked.

The kid shrugged. "She looked fine to me-not that kind of fine, like hot-fine, though she was, I just mean that she looked okay, like-" The kid cut off his own nervous babbling, and inhaled, trying again, "No, she wasn't hurt that I could see."

Morgan's eyebrows were kissing his forehead as he responded. "Alright, did you see what direction they went in?"

"Back out onto the highway I think. Route 206, it's a major vein up here."

"Thanks, that's all we need." The kid nodded, his face still filled with red heat, and hurried out of the police station. Shaking his head, Morgan dialed Hotch.

"Did the witness have anything helpful?" His boss asked, by way of an salutation.

"The witness is a 17 year-old kid who remembered Prentiss cause she was in his wet dreams last night, so not much. She wasn't injured and they headed back on the highway." Frustrated didn't cover how he was feeling.

"Alright, you and Reid head back here. Let Garcia know which highway, and we'll try to determine a few routes they could have taken."

"We're on our way." Morgan snapped his cell shut and turned to Reid. "Time to head home." The younger man simply nodded, he'd been taciturn all day, and it was a little worrying for a kid that babbled as much as Reid did.

* * *

_Updating might be a little hinky over the next several days, just a warning. And, on that note, this story is shaping up to be pretty long, so brace yourselves. Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Read the warnings in chapter 1. The content of this chapter may be disturbing, you have been warned. And, thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter.  
_

* * *

"No, I'll sleep here tonight. We have a room set-up for it." JJ told Will, her voice drawn and tired. "We've got a highway to go off of, but not much beyond that." She listened to him speak, the corners of her mouth turning up the lightest bit at the comfort his voice brought. "Give him a kiss for me in the morning, alright?" Then she did smile. "Love you too."

She set her cell phone on her desk, glad to have it away from her for once. She'd been way too much the last couple days. If she wasn't on the phone wrangling cooperation from police departments or news stations, she was fielding phone calls from police departments they assisted over the last four years. They recognized Emily's name and face, and wanted to know what the hell was going and if they could help at all.

Morgan and Reid had gotten back a couple hours ago, and were in the conference room with Hotch and Rossi, and maybe Garcia working on the tiny bit of information they got from the witness. Morgan had not been impressed with the kid.

JJ grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from her desk and shook two into her hand, swallowing them down with cold, black coffee. She almost never drank her coffee black. She sat with her elbows on the desk, her head in her hands, and tears pricking her eyes. She was exhausted and worried, and had a killer headache that just wouldn't go away. She sniffled, and pulled her head up, dabbing at the tears with her fingers.

"You okay, sweetpea?"

JJ looked up to see Garcia at the door, folders in her hands, face drawn in concern. "Yeah, I'm just tired."

Garcia walked in and sat in front of the desk. "And, scared."

JJ stared at her a minute, ready to deny it, but then nodded. "A little."

"Aw Jayje, she'll be alright. We'll find her, and she'll get a month off work to sit on her butt and eat chocolate and read books while the Bureau headshrinkers decide she's not crazy."

"What if she is?"

"What if she is what?" Garcia asked confused.

JJ stared at her desk, before looking up. "None of us have ever been missing this long, none of us has ever been in danger this long. We're at the 48 hours mark, Pen, and we're not getting her back tonight. We've got a fifty-fifty chance of finding her bringing her home alive."

"Yeah, and we'll be on the good side of that fraction," Garcia insisted.

"And, after that?"

"What do you mean?"

JJ exhaled, the breath shaking right out of her lungs. "Reid got addicted to dilaudid, Gideon disappeared to god only knows where, and Elle...Elle just about went off the deep-end."

"That's what you're afraid of?" Garcia grabbed her friends hand and gave it a squeeze. "Reid is fine, he had a rough time of it, but he's okay now. Gideon already had one foot out the door after those six agents were killed. And, don't forget Hotch went through hell too, and he's...well, he's still Hotch. As for Elle, she didn't lean on the team because she blamed us. She didn't trust us, so we couldn't help her. And, we both know, if Emily blames anyone, it'll be herself."

"It's not her fault."

"Of course it's not, but she'll see everything she didn't do right and everything she should have done, and convince herself of that. And, I don't know if you noticed, but Emily Prentiss is a bit pigheaded."

JJ smirked. "A bit?"

Garcia smiled. "Now, the guys are in the conference room with a giant map and several different colors of markers. They're attempting to use profiling to figure out where he might go based off this route 206 thing, and I've got tollbooth footage running through facial recognition. What do you say you join us?"

"Where does that road go?" JJ asked, pushing her chair out and making follow Garcia.

"It goes north, which I think is a pretty safe bet to rule out, or it goes south through the Pine Barrens, where it eventually becomes 54, a state road. Or, it will connect with the New Jersey Turnpike, which obviously goes through the entire state and is severely deficient in attractive scenery, or the PA turnpike, or I195, which goes into Philadelphia, among other places, or a few different highways that go into New York City, or 80, which goes through the entire country, or any of the other six bagillion roads in New Jersey." She sighed dramatically.

"So, they want to narrow using profiling," JJ guessed.

"Yep."

"He's a psychotic, they can't really predict psychotics."

Garcia stopped and put her hands on her hips. "You think that will stop them all from trying?"

JJ smiled at her friend. "No, no it won't." They walked in silence a bit longer before JJ spoke. "Did you know she was with Morgan when I called her Sunday morning about the case?"

Garcia turned to face her, eyes suddenly alight with enthusiasm for gossip. "Really? It was barely ten o'clock."

"She said they were spackling walls."

"Is that what they call it now?" Garcia joked.

"She assured me on the plane to Albany that it was platonic," JJ answered, recalling spending that flight teasing her about Morgan and grilling her about her ex. It had been fun girl-talk. At least for her, though Emily had gotten a bit red.

"Platonic spackling, that's a new one for me."

JJ smirked. "Me too."

* * *

They were somewhere in Western PA, toward the south of the state, she was pretty sure. Beautiful as the landscape may be, all Emily could think was that JJ had grown up somewhere out here, in some pint-sized hell of a town, and how the hell had she survived it? Of course, it was almost eleven, and she was a hostage, so her perspective might be a little skewed, but still, she was not a fan. Western PA was as rural as Montana, and she really wasn't into of rural.

They were at the Windy Acres Motor Court, and any place with 'motor court' in the name was not a place she'd have chosen to stay. She wasn't really a snob about hotels, it wasn't like the Bureau sprung for much, but this place wasn't even clean. Sticky stains on the carpet, cracks in the walls, tiles missing from the bathroom, it was a regular paradise. At least, the bed was reasonably clean.

She was sitting against the headboard-which one hand was cuffed too-Carrie sleeping in her other arm, and Kyle sitting beside her, leaning sleepily against her. The TV was on, though she wasn't really paying attention, and Chris was sitting on her other side, studying a tourist map. She didn't bother asking where they were going, he wouldn't have told her. They'd eaten dinner, and she'd taken care of the baby, lulling her to sleep.

"Alright, time for bed, I want to get an early start tomorrow." Chris leaned over Emily to gently lift Carrie, and transfer her to her car seat.

The infant didn't protest, except for a sleepy wiggle, before settling back to sleep, her head to one side, looking for all the world like a little doll. Chris hit the TV, while Emily coaxed a half-asleep Kyle to a more comfortable laying down position. She curled onto her side, and the little boy burrowed right against her like he had the previous night. And, like the previous night, Chris wrapped himself around her.

But it wasn't quite the same as last night. Chris didn't kiss her neck, or go to sleep, instead his hand rested on her hip, fingers tracing nonsensical patters over the satin of the nightdress. Emily stared into the darkness of the room, wide awake. It had to be about fifteen or twenty minutes before he spoke.

"Is Kyle asleep?" His voice was a whisper.

"Yeah, he was tired, travel is hard on young kids." She kept her voice low, so she didn't wake him.

Chris didn't respond, but his hand traveled lower, to the hem of the dress, just above her knees. She stiffed when his hand went under the hem, and used her free arm to try and swat him away.

"Hey, hey, shhh...relax," he whispered, lips against her ear.

"Don't touch me."

"You used to love it when I touched you?" He sounded genuinely confused, and she just wanted to hit him.

"That was fifteen years ago, it's different now. We were together then."

He shifted himself closer, leaning over her, hand inching up her thighs. "We're together again, and I want to celebrate."

"Please don't. Kyle is right here."

"He's asleep."

"He can wake up," she snapped.

"It'll be fine, we'll be quiet." He began kissing along her neck, hand still groping around her thighs. "I want to make love to you. I want us to have another baby."

Her already racing pulse jumped up to a full-on gallop. Was he purposely blurring the past and present, or was he far gone enough that he didn't see?

His hand continued traveling, skirting her groin area, touching her belly, and working around to gently rub her back. For a minute, Emily felt relief, maybe that was all it would be, groping she could handle. Then his fingers went to the clasp of the bra she'd insisted on wearing to bed again, flicking it open. His hand traveled slowly over her skin again, and when he touched her breasts, gently pinching the nipples, warmth rushed just south of her belly. And, she hated herself for it, physiological reaction or no.

His hand traveled lower, cupping her butt over her underwear, and then forcefully sliding between her legs. Emily turned her head behind her, stretching her neck as far as it would go.

"Please, please don't do this, Chris," she plead with him. He took the opportunity to capture her lips, and slide his tongue inside her mouth, an initial violation. Emily broke away, and turned her face away from him.

His fingers touched her over her underwear, even as she tried to wiggle away without waking Kyle. This was something he did not need to see, he should not see.

Suddenly, his hand disappeared, and Emily was left tensed and wondering. He shifted around a minute, and then he was lifting up the satin nightdress that had been his wife's. When the dress was above her waist, he started tugging on her panties, and Emily squeezed her legs shut to make it more difficult.

"Please don't, don't do this, Chris. Please," she tried again, hating that she was begging.

It took both of his hands to get her underwear off, and push her legs open. He stroked her with his fingers, as he pushed himself against her, and Emily couldn't stifle a gasp when his erection pressed against her backside. Her heart was pumping so fast she thought she might have a coronary episode right there in that bed.

"Stop, stop, please stop," she begged, desperation and hysteria making her voice louder than a whisper. "Chris, Chris please don't do this, don't do this to me, please, please stop..." Her begging was cut-off when she saw two frightened brown eyes staring back at her.

"Close your eyes," she whispered to Kyle. "Now, close them." At her tone, he snapped his eyes shut, and she sealed the hand that had been curled into a fist over his ear, hoping to block out the noise.

She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as Chris slid himself inside her. "Stop...stop..." was her last barely audible, high-pitched plea.

Emily bit her lip to keep herself quiet as he thrusted in and out of her, one hand on her belly to keep her steady. She could feel hot tears on her cheeks, and pushed her face into the pillow. His heavy breathing was right in her ear, his grunts of satisfaction like shouts in the quiet room. With every thrust, she felt her left wrist tug against the cuffs, the metal scraping painfully against her skin. Chris kissed along the back of her neck, and Emily tried to curl deeper against herself without crushing Kyle.

As his momentum increased to peak, her body tensed painfully, until he gave one hard final thrust, and emptied into her, whispering over and over again about how he loved her. And, when he finally pulled himself out of her, he fixed her panties and night dress and nuzzled against her, anchoring her with an arm against her waist. Emily dried the tears on her face, and with a shaking hand, stroked Kyle's head until his body relaxed in sleep.

She lay awake, staring into the darkness, willing the trembling of her body to subside, even as her mind broke down the trauma and stowed it away somewhere in her mind where it couldn't hurt her. The terrified, wounded look in her eyes disappeared with it.

* * *

_Don't hate me. I had the order of the sections flipped, but I decided this way packed a bigger emotional punch, which is what I was going for. Next chapter will be at the earliest, Wednesday night. Sorry, can't be helped. Thank you for reading, and reviews are greatly appreciated. _


	11. Chapter 11

**Wednesday**

Emily was sitting on the bed, handcuffed as usual, and starting blankly ahead. Chris was finishing packing the bags, puttering around the room like absolutely nothing was amiss. She buried it deep inside her, but even still could feel his betrayal in every fiber of her body. Could still feel where he'd put his hands, feel the slight burn of sex between her legs, and she could still hear her own pathetic voice begging him not to do it. So much good that had done.

And, Kyle had barely said a word all morning. He did as he was told-got dressed, brushed his teeth, ate his breakfast, kept out of the way, and that was it. He didn't even turn the TV on. Instead, he'd parked himself beside the baby, and distracted himself by playing with her. Or maybe, the little boy had shifted himself into protective big brother mode, finally unable to deny that something was very wrong.

"Kyle," she called to him.

He looked over at her but didn't answer.

"Come over here a minute, please." She tried to keep a smile on her face, but it was so hard. The boy moved away from his baby sister to where Emily sat on the bed. "Come up here."

Again, he did as told, but remained silent, staring at her with those beautiful brown eyes that now lacked the joyful light of childhood.

Emily ran a hand affectionately over the side of his face. "Kyle, I don't know how much you saw last night, but what happened...that wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay?"

He nodded without feeling.

"Can I have a hug?" She asked. Kyle nodded, and leaned toward her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Emily embraced him with the arm that wasn't cuffed, and kissed his head. She was a bit surprised when he remained in her arms, unmoving.

"Emily?" His little voice was hesitant and barely audible.

"Yes?"

"Is my daddy a bad man?"

Emily froze. How was she supposed to answer that? She couldn't explain that his daddy was having a psychotic episode, a five year-old wouldn't understand that.

"Okay, we're about ready to go." Chris strode over to them, relaxed and smiling. He looked at Kyle. "You okay, Kye?"

He pulled away from Emily, and nodded. Chris tousled his hair, pulled the handcuff key from his pocket. He always changed where he kept it, to make it harder for her to try and get it. He kissed her lips, letting it linger, even though she didn't respond. Emily felt her stomach turn over.

Then a beep sounded and the door opened, revealing a surprised cleaning lady. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I-" She froze as her eyes landed on Emily's cuffed wrist.

Chris flew over, and grabbed the woman, slamming his gun down on her head, and letting her fall to the floor, before Emily could warn her to run. He finished pulling her cart inside, and shut the door, eyes suddenly filled with cold fury. Then he grabbed the woman under her arms, and began to drag her away from the door.

"Chris? Chris, what are you doing with her?" Emily demanded.

"Quiet," he snapped, and dropped the woman by the little table and chair set.

He grabbed the key again, and unhooked her, pulling her and Kyle out the door. They were in the back of the motel on the first floor, with the neon parked right outside. Chris had Kyle settle himself in the car, and he shackled Emily to the door.

"I'll be right back, I've got to get Carrie and the bags. Do not try anything, Em." He instructed, the good humor from the morning long gone from his eyes.

He disappeared back in the room, and after only a few minutes, Emily heard a muffled bang. Her head flew up, eyes staring wide at the room. Gunfire. He'd used something to muffle it, but Chris had fired his gun. He strode out of the room, juggling Carrie in her car seat and the bags.

"Chris, what did you do?" She demanded when he opened the door.

"Don't worry about it." He carefully clipped the baby seat in, all but ignoring Emily.

"You shot her didn't you? That woman? You killed her?"

"Shut up." He shut the backdoor, and stowed the bags in trunk. Once he opened the front door, she questioned him again.

"You really killed her didn't you? She was innocent, Chris! Knocking her on the head was enough!"

Suddenly, her head was snapping to the right, and left side of her face was filled with pain. Chris was looking at her, furious and barely in control. He shook the gun he'd just hit her with. "Shut. Up."

Emily held her face and closed her mouth, turning away from him. A quick glance in the rearview mirror told her what she already knew-Kyle was red-eyed, his bottom lip trembling.

* * *

There. Was. Nothing. Not a single damned thing. At least, not on the highways. And, Jersey's six bagillion little roads didn't have cameras on them. Seriously, she knew the state was densely populated, but looking at a New Jersey road map was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics. Penelope Garcia was not a happy woman.

"Guys, I've got bupkus," she announced entering the conference room.

Four profilers and a media liaison looked up at her, all looking a bit better than they had yesterday. At four in the morning, she'd made them stop (they were all so tired they were barely moving anyway), and sent Rossi and Hotch to the couches in their offices, and the other three to the room the Bureau kept for it's employees to catch naps. That they'd all listened told her they needed it. She had flicked a few more buttons on her computers, and followed them in slumber.

Her wonderful, sweet lover had woken them all at 7:30 with breakfast. Real breakfast: pancakes, bacon and eggs from a place near Quantico. The team had been very grateful, and Kevin had earned himself major points with them. She'd thanked him with a hearty smootch and a smack on the bum-which made him blush a little.

The morning had been spent re-assessing their information, and informing law enforcement in the areas they'd deemed likely for him to enter. Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland were still at the top of the list, but considering how behind they were, they'd added West Virginia, Virginia, and Ohio. It would be terribly convenient if he showed up near Quantico, but they weren't quite that optimistic. And, Hotch got the pleasure of updating the wicked bitch of the east, otherwise known as Erin Strauss.

After the largest highways turned up nothing, Garcia had expanded her search to the smaller ones, and then to every street camera she could hack into in the Garden State. Zilch. Nadda. Zip. Squat. Bupkis.

The conference room was now sporting one heavily scribbled on white-board, and a second with photos and random pages of information taped up. And, then the walls were covered with maps. One wall held a map of the tristate area (NY, PA & NJ) and a heavily marked up map of New Jersey, another held giant map of the Northeast, and the third wall held the entire US. It looked like they were planning battle.

"Wouldn't that mean they'd have to still be in New Jersey?" Morgan asked.

"No, not necessarily. If they're in sunglasses and hats with brims, the computer probably wouldn't be able to pick them out, especially with this quality footage." A weakness in the system, one that was greatly upsetting now.

"He's definitely out of state," Hotch said. "He's been jumping through them as often as possible, he's knows it'll make it harder for us."

"You guys have any idea where he's headed?" The same miserable look on all five faces was enough of an answer for her. "Well, the forensics lab finally pulled DNA and fingerprints off what you guys got from the house, and uploaded it to the system, and we already have Emily's on file, so I tagged everything in the system. If anybody runs them we'll know, the license plate of the Caddy too."

"That's good work, Garcia," Hotch commended her.

"Thank you, sir." She glanced around the room. "So, now what's the plan?"

The five FBI agents exchanged unhappy looks, before Rossi finally decided to say what they all knew, but didn't want to admit. "We wait."

"What?" She gaped.

"For you to get a hit on something, or a valid tip to come through."

"But, but, that could be days?" Surely, they couldn't leave Emily with a psychotic for days?

Hotch suddenly inhaled. "JJ get a press conference together. It's time to make this national, I want all four of their faces on every TV and newspaper in the country." Then he rose and swept out of the room, leaving the stunned team in his wake.

* * *

It took them all damn day driving. Lunch was drive-thru food, dinner was sandwiches from a gas station, not that Emily ate much of it. She felt sick to her stomach all the time. They'd crossed state lines not once, not twice, but five times. Pennsylvania into Maryland, and from Maryland into Virginia, at which point they came so close to her house, so close to Quantico she nearly broke down in sobs. Then Virginia into West Virginia for a while, then into Ohio, and finally at almost 11 at night, she saw the welcome to Kentucky sign. Her stomach ached even worse.

They drove on the most out of the way back roads in Kentucky, except when he went into Lexington, and stopped at a few stores. After that, they went up into the mountains, part of the state she'd never thought much about, always taking Kyle in with him. He knew even if she could find a way out of the cuffs, she wouldn't leave without both kids. All she knew about Kentucky was that it was big on horses. Now though, she discovered it was very scenic, and apparently home to many mountain cabins. There was something vaguely familiar in it.

Chris parked the car in front of a cabin, and got out, and knocked on the door. Someone greeted him, and showed him inside. Did this place seriously take reservations this late? Sure enough, moments later, he came out with a set of keys, and a smile on his face.

"You've been here before?" She asked.

"Yep. Don't you remember?"

Emily frowned deeply. She'd been here before? With him?

"Cabin number 3," he wiggled the key as he watched the road. "Secluded on it's very own ten acres, hours away from cities and highways, just us, the mountain, and a wonderful Jacuzzi tub."

Emily's mouth fell open. "That was here?"

Seventeen years ago, the summer after college graduation they'd planned to go on a road trip, but had gotten horribly lost on the first day. They had found that rental office, and after glancing at the brochure and cheap price of the luxury cabin, quickly forked over all the cash they'd brought with them. They'd spent a week there, enjoying the quiet serenity, and making love at all hours of the day and night. It had been an amazing week for them.

"Course it was, babe. I told you I knew someplace." He smiled.

Emily's stomach fell somewhere in the vicinity of her feet.

The familiarity became more pronounced as the barely visible driveway to the cabin came into view. It was little more than a well-trod pathway in the dirt, only visible because of the break in the tall pines and spruce. She remembered the slope up before they hit it, remember how steep it was, enough to feel like the beginning of a roller coaster ride. The cabin was on a hill, that she remembered well. They spent the mornings out on the back porch, wrapped together in a blanket, admiring the amazing view.

"Isn't this beautiful, Em?" He grabbed her hand as the cabin finally came into view.

She stared sadly at what was once a fond memory. "Yeah, it was."

He threw the car in park, and turned toward her, taking her chin gently in his hand, and pressing a kiss to her lips. Then he rested his forehead against hers, oblivious to the mordant look on her face. "This is it. A new beginning for us."

"It's late, we should get the kids to bed," she answered with a sigh.

Chris continued to stare at her, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth and love. He stroked the side of her face that was already bruising. "We're going to be so happy here."

She didn't respond, and Chris finally decided to pull the keys from the ignition, and stowed them in his pocket. He gently shook Kyle awake, and sent him up to the house with his backpack. He left Emily and the baby in the car while he brought in their bags, and then the couple of bags of supplies he'd grabbed as they passed through Lexington. Then he grabbed the baby and Emily, keeping an arm around her as he led her inside.

Both kids went down easily. Kyle picked his own room with only mild enthusiasm, and quickly turned on his side, his back to them, and went to sleep. Carrie, they kept with them. As it turned out, one of the things Chris sprung for was a foldable crib, so the poor child got to sleep a night out of her carrier. He also managed to find a fetish store to her horror, where he got a pair of cuffs with a longer chain. She supposed she should be grateful that was all he got.

"Can we please go one night without them," she asked, holding up her sore, red wrists, which hadn't quite started bleeding yet, but were well on their way.

He frowned. "I'm sorry, babe," he said, kissing both wrists. "I've got an idea, hang on."

He disappeared from the bedroom and came back with a pair of Kyle's small white tube socks, and a pair of scissors. He cut the tops off, and slid them onto Emily's wrists, right over the raw skin, removing the cuffs momentarily to do so. Then he kissed her hands and smiled. "All better."

They changed for bed, Emily slipping on another of the satiny dresses, not caring that Chris was watching, making sure she didn't try anything while the cuffs were off. When she climbed into bed, he put her left wrist into the new longer chained cuffs he'd gotten, and turned her on her back. She'd expected it, but it didn't make it any easier to take.

Though at an obvious disadvantage, she tried to push his hands away, and kick at him, half hoping he'd just decide she was too much trouble. He only had to use his body weight to still her struggles, and squeeze her sore wrist to stop her hand. She didn't cry this time, not until it was over, and she was curled into the fetal position, facing away from him. Silent tears slid down her cheeks like raindrops on a windowpane. Chris pulled her close, and buried his face in the back of her neck.

* * *

_Thank you all who reviewed the last chapter. The next chapter will skip a couple days to keep this moving along. Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you all for the reviews for the last chapter, and I'm sorry for the delay, I've been very busy. Updates might be slower for a while, just too much to get done right now. _

_Non US readers: In the states a jumper doesn't refer to a pullover sweater, but a cross between a dress and overalls (overalls with a skirt instead of pants). I don't know if that has a name outside the US, but hopefully, I've spared a few people confusion.  
_

**

* * *

Saturday**

Emily watched her sleep with a contented smile on her face. She'd spent the last three mornings at the cabin, waking up early to Carrie's cries, and sitting for a long time holding her as the sun came up. Four or five o'clock in the morning, and the baby wanted a changed and a snack, and Emily was all too happy for the excuse to not be in bed. Of course, she always had to wake Chris up, so he could uncuff her, but as she as soon as he'd attached her to the chair in the baby's room, he stumbled back to their bedroom.

The new handcuffs he'd gotten were long enough that she could sit and hold or feed the baby while attached to the chair. They were a bit loud, but she didn't have to move too much. Carrie was a good baby, who loved to snuggle as much as Emily was willing to hold her. And, there was something so soothing about coaxing the baby to sleep and just holding her in the quiet of dawn. It was the only time Emily was ever alone, away from Chris. When she was free from his touch.

She gently rubbed the baby's cheek with the back of two fingers, and looked up out the window at the sun rising. It was almost completely risen, the brilliant colors fading to a light blue. Tears pricked her eyes, and her throat grew tight as Emily counted her sixth sunrise as a hostage. Her fifth as Chris's unwilling concubine. She wondered how long it would take before caring for Carrie and Kyle wasn't enough to keep her sane.

The sock-bandages hadn't helped protect her wrists much. They were thin fabric, made thinner as the cuffs rubbed against them, and were now frayed and bloody. Not soaked in red, but it seeped bright into the now dingy white, and dried a dark rust color. Fortunately, Emily had a pretty high pain threshold, and as much as the wounds hurt, she ignored it. Tylenol helped some, when she could get a hold of it. The swelling from the pistol-whipping she'd received had disappeared, but dark, ugly bruises still remained on the left side of her face.

Emily had learned quickly how not to piss Chris off, to maintain his fantasy of the perfect family. She'd ceased fighting him in bed, choosing to lie there like a dead fish instead, closing her eyes, and sending her mind somewhere else. Kyle had learned not to crawl into bed with them right away, but wait until the light went out. He usually went back to his bed when they got up to take care of the baby. But, the little boy still had nightmares.

These were not just of his mommy dying, but also the frightening actions of his daddy.

"Morning, Mommy." His soft, sleep-addled voice turned her head.

"Hey Kyle." She greeted him with a smile, trying as always to protect the kids. She had even gotten less uncomfortable with him calling her mommy.

Emily had never been anyone's mommy, and hadn't exactly volunteered for the job now.

"Morning, Carrie." He gave his sister the same sleepy greeting, and kissed both their cheeks before sitting on the floor, and leaning against Emily's legs. This was their bizarre little morning routine, until Chris got up and they made breakfast.

It made her miss her life that much more. She missed her morning routine. She missed walking into the BAU, the chaos of the bullpen, the camaraderie of the team. She wanted so badly to hear Reid babbling and Garcia chirping inappropriate things at Morgan. She wanted to collapse onto the chair in JJ's office, and describe her last disaster of a date. She actually missed Hotch's calm stoicism, and Rossi's amused, if not slightly arrogant, smirk. And, she just, well missed Morgan. They'd been spending so much time together lately that six days without seeing him felt like a year.

She missed them in a way that she'd never missed anyone. It wasn't just missing seeing people, it was missing being where you belong, where you feel safe. The knot in the center of her belly coiled tighter at the thought that she might never see any of them again. She'd really been looking forward to finishing that house with Morgan.

"Can you tell me more stories?" Kyle asked, looking up at her.

"I told you about everyone already. Do you remember it?" She'd spent the past two mornings he got up telling him about the BAU, or more specifically her family in it. She wanted him to know who he could trust.

"Yes. I like Miss Pen'el'pee," he said, the name rolling across his tongue with considerable difficulty. She'd tried to teach him proper names rather than what she called them, it would be better for him.

"Can you tell me who else you remember?"

Kyle nodded enthusiastically. "Agent Hodner is your boss, Agent Reid is really smart, and Agent Morgan kicks in doors!" He declared enthusiastically.

Emily chuckled while shushing him. "You've got to be quiet, sweetie."

"Sorry." He looked away bashfully.

"It's okay, who else do you remember?"

"Agent Rozzi is old," he said thoughtfully, and Emily had to bite her tongue so she didn't laugh. "And, Agent Derrow...?" He looked questioningly.

"Close enough." Emily smiled. Then she heard motion, and put a finger to her mouth. Kyle looked behind them, eyes suddenly showing fright, but quickly looked back as his father came through the door.

"Good morning, Beautiful. Morning, Kye." Chris strode into the baby's room looking refreshed and chipper.

"Morning daddy." Kyle got up from the floor, and obediently kissed his father on the cheek. Emily said nothing, but obediently tilted her head up so Chris could kiss her. His touch and his kiss had stopped making her feel sick days ago.

Now, she felt nothing.

* * *

"I already admitted that I missed her, Garcia. What more are you looking for?" Morgan groaned at her.

The super-sexy profiler had been sitting on the floor of her office when she returned from the bathroom, legs bent, head in his hands, looking ten shades past miserable. She quickly began pestering him about what brought him there-aside from the obvious.

"Well, how about you tell me about you two spending your Sundays together?"

He half-scowled at her. "JJ?"

"Yep. Something about platonic spackling, so I heard?"

"How is it you managed to make spackling sound dirty?"

"It's a rare talent, but one that I'm quite proud of."

He laughed through his nose, before his expression sobered. "She's been gone almost a week. We don't even know if she's still alive."

Tears bit at Garcia's eyes, and it took all her self-control not to let them fall. "Yes, she's is."

"I know you're the Oracle of the All-Knowing, but even you don't know that, Babygirl."

"I do. We'd know if she was dead, Derek. We're family, families know these things," she insisted. She had to believe that, it was too upsetting to think otherwise.

Morgan was about to argue that when one of her screens started to flash spastically. They were both immediately riveted to it. "What's that?" Morgan asked.

Garcia spun to the screen. "Uh...Oh! Someone's running prints, Emily's _and_ Bennett's. It's the Pennsylvania state lab."

"Get me their number." He didn't need to finish, Garcia was pulling it up on the screen, and typing it into her phone system

"Pennsylvania Crime Lab," a bored, male voice answered.

"This is Special Agent Derek Morgan at the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. You ran two sets of fingerprints, and I need to know where the case is out of," he explained into the speaker.

"You have the numbers?"

Morgan looked at the screen. "MT33729H and MT33730H."

There was clicking on the other end. "Looks like it's out of Warren, PA. Case is headed by the state police."

"You know anything else about it?"

"No. We run the evidence, not the case." His disdain went completely unmasked.

"You have their case number?"

"Uh, sure. H108W778."

"Thanks." Morgan hung up and looked at Garcia. "State police, babygirl."

Quickly, she found the number of the office closest to Warren, and punched it in. Another bored voice answered. Morgan repeated the same greeting.

"I need to know about case number H108W778."

Silence, fingers typing. "Homicide case, came in a few days ago."

"The victim?" Morgan asked impatiently.

"I'm not comfortable discussing a case over the phone, Agent Morgan."

"I have an agent missing, I need to know if you found her." Please god, don't let it be so.

"The victim is a woman, but not your agent. We've already identified her, and that's all I'm telling you over the phone. You want to know more, come down here." And, with that he hung up.

"Dumb-ass bastard," Morgan growled.

* * *

"I'll be back in a minute," Chris announced, shutting the car door, and heading into the supermarket. Emily watched him until he disappeared inside the grocery store and turned to Kyle in the backseat.

"Kyle, can you hand me your bag, and the baby's?" They were on a supply run, and Chris had decided it would be safer and quicker to go in by himself. At the same time, he didn't want to leave Emily and the kids alone at the cabin.

The boy handed her first the diaper bag, and then his little backpack. She'd packed both bags that morning-or rather, packed the diaper bag, and coached Kyle with his bag. Just like she'd picked out the yellow jumper set when dressing Carrie, mindful of the little pocket in the front.

Emily pulled the baby carrier out of Kyle's bag, and handed it to him. She took the coloring book and pack of crayons, and tore out the introductory page in the front of the book. Using the black crayon, she quickly scribbled out less than ten words, and folded the page up. The book and crayons went back into his bag. Opening the diaper bag, she transferred the extra blanket, two bottles of formula, a jar of food, a spoon, three diapers, two juice boxes, a package of apple slices and a package of fruit snacks to Kyle's bag. It took some sorting and cramming, but she managed to fit it.

"Can you get close to me, Kyle?" She asked, turning back toward him. He obeyed, looking rather sullen as he had the last several days. She motioned him to turn around, and fit the backpack over his shoulders.

Emily took the carrier from him, and sorted it out, adjusting the straps, and coaching him into it, snapping it on to him as best she could with one hand. She looked up at him, resting her hand on his cheek. "Do you remember those people I told you about?"

Kyle nodded. "Do you want me to tell you them?"

"No, sweetie. But, I need you to remember them, okay?" He nodded again, so Emily motioned him to turn again, toward the baby. "This is going to be hard, but I need you to lift Carrie out of her seat, into that thing on your chest, okay? She needs to face you."

He shot her a frightened look, but still move closer to the car seat, and with some difficulty, unhooked his sister. Emily watched him move the belt carefully over her head, and then place his hands on either side of her middle. When he lifted her she began to cry, sensing that the situation wasn't quite right. Kyle turned to Emily again, looking freaked, worried he'd done something wrong.

"It's okay. You're doing it right," Emily coaxed.

Kyle pressed his lips together in concentration as he lifted her up over the carrier, and with flagging strength tried to gently lower her into it. Emily winced at the infant's unsupported head, and reached out a hand, that was just barely long enough to help. With a bit of nervous groaning, Kyle managed to get her into the carrier, and Carrie quieted a bit.

"You did very good, Kyle," she commended him, to the boy's instant delight. She stowed the folded up coloring book page in Carrie's jumper pocket, and tucked a pacifier into her mouth. "Now, I need you to do something else, okay?"

"What?" He asked. Emily turned back around, and studied the road and area surrounding the store until she found what she was looking for.

"Do you see that store? With the scissors in the window?" She pointed to a salon in a strip of stores next to the grocery.

"I see it," he said nodding his head.

"Good. I need you to get out of the car and run there. Once you get inside, you tell them to call the police, and when the policeman gets there, you give him this." She handed him her Bureau ID card.

Kyle studied it. "That's you."

"Yes, it is. That card is going to get those people I told you about out here. They're going to take care of you and Carrie, okay?"

"What about you?" He frowned, head cocked to one side, not understanding.

"I can't go with you, baby. I wish I could."

Kyle suddenly shook his head vigorously back and forth, his body moving with it, jostling the baby. "No."

"Yes, you have to go, Kyle."

"No, daddy's going to hurt you!"

Emily inhaled, pressing her lips together. "No, he won't. I'll be fine."

"I don't believe you!" Tears were forming in his eyes now, and his face was growing red.

"Kyle sweetie, it doesn't matter. Don't worry about me. You need to get your sister out of here. Carrie needs you, now." She tried to appeal to his big brother instincts.

Tears running down his face, he coughed over a sob. "I don't wanna leave you."

"I know, sweetie. But, I need you to do this, I need you to be brave. Please Kyle, do this for me. Please," she pled with him.

Still sniffling, he finally nodded. "Emily?"

"Yes?" She asked, worried he would make her promise something she couldn't.

"I love you."

Now suddenly it was her with tears in her eyes. She ran a hand over his cheek, and said, "I love you too, sweetie."

Kyle threw himself at her, and she hugged him as tight as she could without crushing Carrie, and kissed them both. Then she pushed him back gently, and motioned him to the door. "Now, go. Run, Kyle."

He dove out, and only looked back once, with big, sad eyes, before obeying her motioning hand, and running toward the salon as fast as he could, laden as he was. When Emily saw him disappear inside, she let her body fall back into the seat, a huff of air escaping her mouth. Finally, finally, finally, the kids would be safe. Six days, and the nightmare was over for them. Not that Carrie would remember it, thank god. Hopefully, it would disappear from Kyle's mind too.

With a glance in the rearview, she saw his form emerge from the grocery, arms full with bags. If Chris was half as pissed as she expected, it might be over for her soon too. She couldn't really find the will to care.

* * *

_So, I don't know the case numbering or evidence numbering systems of either the PA state police, or their state crime lab, that's all creative license on my part. Thanks for reading, and please review!_


	13. Chapter 13

_So judging by the reviews I got, I must have done something right with the last chapter. Thank you all very, very much for that. It made me very happy. This chapter is mostly the team, and the next will probably be more team, less Emily, but I'll make up for that in the following chapters. Yeah, this one won't be over anytime soon, I really, really didn't expect it to be this long. I was estimating 30,000 words when I started, and clearly I don't estimate well. _

_Thank you for reading, and please keep reviewing!_

* * *

"David Rossi, Dr. Spencer Reid," Rossi gestured to himself and Reid. "We're with the Bureau. One of our colleagues called earlier today, asking about a homicide you're investigating in Warren. I've got the case number..." He reached into his pocket for his notepad.

"Don't need it. Warren's small, not many murders, and I spoke to your man this morning. Your missing agent was at our crime scene it seems." The man was approaching fifty, maybe even sixty, and his belly hung over the belt of his khaki state police uniform.

"Can you tell us about the case?" Reid asked politely.

Hotch had decided since Morgan's temper had been...well, short, the last several days, and the phone conversation with the PA trooper had only made it worse, that it was best for Rossi and Reid to go to PA. Morgan had been petulant at first, but got over it quickly, realizing he didn't have the patience to tap dance with local yokels anyway.

"We found a maid in a motel room with her head blown open. Killer used a pillow to silence the shot, left the bloody mess and took off. Best we can figure is she went in the room to clean, and saw something they didn't want her to see. They pulled her cart into the room to delay suspicion," he explained.

"You keep saying they," Rossi pointed out.

"One of the five cameras at the motel was working, we've got a mediocre shot of the couple who stayed in the room. So yes, they."

"What night did they stay?"

"That would have been Tuesday night. They left Wednesday morning."

Rossi frowned, the timeline fit for Bennett and Emily being there, for Bennett being the killer. He turned to see Reid scrambling through the folder they'd carried in, pulling out photos.

"Why were you just running the prints now?" Rossi tried hard not to sound critical.

"Our scanner's been broken for a month and a half, so we've been sending prints to the state lab with all our other evidence. It's slow, but at least it gets done." He shrugged.

"Are these the people on the camera?" Reid asked.

The trooper took the photos, studied them with a perplexed expression, and finally sighed. "The footage was bad, and we don't have a very distinct shot of her, but we do have a decent one of him. That man is the same one who stayed in that room, except he had red hair. The woman he had with him was a blond, though now, I suspect she didn't start that way."

"Did you see children in the security footage?" Rossi asked.

"Yeah, he dragged a boy and woman out of the room, went back in and came out with a baby carrier. That fit what you're looking for?"

"Yes, it does...you didn't see the bulletins out on our agent and this man?"

"We did, but I told you, we were looking for a red haired male, and a blond female, not a blond male and black-haired female. We didn't think to compare the two."

"Did you get a plate off the car?" Reid clamped down any judgmental comments he might have had for the sake of cooperation.

"No, but we got a make. Silver, 1999 Dodge Neon. The angle wasn't right to get the plate."

Reid nodded, and Rossi scribbled the information in a note pad, JJ could add it into her next press release. "Can you take us to the scene?" He asked.

"Sure...this agent, she's a hostage, right?" The trooper asked.

"Yes, she was abducted sometime before three a.m. on Monday," Reid said.

"You should know something else then, we found DNA evidence too. It's not back yet, but it was fresh, so we know it's from these two," he paused, as if reluctant to tell them. "It was from the bed."

It took them all of a minute to figure out what he was trying to be so delicate about, and then neither man seemed to know what to say.

"Hotchner." He pulled out his cell as it chirped, moving away from the map he, JJ, Morgan and Garcia had gathered around in the conference room. They'd marked off NJ route 206 and the PA town on the map of the Northeast, and were working on connecting the two with streets, trying to determine trajectory.

* * *

"Agent Hotchner with the BAU?" A man asked, a southern lilt to his voice.

"Yes. Who am I speaking with?"

"Sergeant Gene Hornell, Kentucky State Police, Harlan County Office."

Hotch was immediately interested. "What can I do for you?"

"I think that's the other way around. I got your name from a little boy here, earlier this morning he ran into a salon with his baby sister in carrier attached to his chest. He handed me an ID card for the FBI, and told me to contact you. The name on the card is Emily Prentiss, we got a missing bulletin on her early this week. I'm going to assume that's still active?"

"Yes, it is. She wasn't with the children?" He could see his colleagues' heads swivel toward him at that.

"No. The boy isn't saying much; he's real upset, it took the better part of any hour to calm him down."

"Is he injured? Or the baby?"

"No, they seem well cared for."

"Alright, I'm going to head out there with my team. Those children must be under protective custody with the highest security you've got. I don't know if he'll try, but their father will definitely want them back," Hotch explained, already motioning his team to follow.

"I'll have a couple of my men pick you up from the airport. The kids will be in my personal custody until you arrive." The promise in his voice meant more to Hotch than the words from his mouth.

"I appreciate that, Sergeant. We'll see you in a few hours." He hung up the phone, and turned to his agents.

"Kyle Bennett just walked into a salon, he had Carrie with him. We're going to Kentucky." He marched out of the conference room, already dialing for the jet, calling it back from PA. His next call would be Rossi.

"Prentiss?" Morgan asked.

"She wasn't with them, and apparently Kyle was too upset to talk for a while." He didn't have to turn to see the looks they shot each other, he had the same fears.

Hotch glanced at his watch, 11:30 am, and concluded that they could make it Kentucky by 1:00.

* * *

Emily pushed her body up off the ground, not easy with the cuffs on her wrists. Chris had been pissed, not enough to kill her apparently, but to do some damage. He was pacing now, after having given her several new bruises for her betrayal, as he thought of it. Her ribs were sore, and the left side of her face ached, her nose having only just stopped bleeding. She teetered a little as she tried to sit upright.

They'd already crossed state lines again, this time into Tennessee. Chris was unwilling to take the chance of returning to the cabin, apparently resigned to the idea that he wasn't going to get his children back, not now. He'd pulled them onto a deserted street, and yanked her out of the car, uncuffing her from the door handle, and sliding it to her other wrist.

Benjamin Cyrus had given her worse. Of course, she'd known the team had her back at the time. Now, they had no idea where she was, or where Chris was headed next. Hell, _she_ had no idea where he was going. Emily spit blood into the dirt, and watched him pace and talk to himself. Not a good sign for her, but then it couldn't really get much worse.

"Why? Why did you have to do that?" He demanded, suddenly stopping in front of her, as she leaned against the car and winced painfully.

"They're just kids, they shouldn't have to live as fugitives," Emily answered.

"But, we were a family. You broke apart our family." Emily made no attempt to respond, choosing instead to turn away and ignore him. Until he slapped her. "Don't ignore me, Emily!"

Removing the hand she'd brought up to her face, she turned to him, eyes blazing. "You killed someone, Chris! You shot an innocent woman with your infant daughter in the room, and your son in the car! You think I'd risk their lives to maintain your fucked up version of a family?"

"I would not hurt my own kids! I love them!"

"Yeah? You say you love me, but you keeping hurting me." Her voice had become quiet, as if she were too tired to fight with his delusions.

"I-I didn't want to, but you make me so angry!"

"Then just let me go. If I aggravate you that much, get rid of me," she snapped.

He stared at her a minute, and then shook his head, pulling her close, kissing her head. "No, no, I can't do that. I need you with me...always."

* * *

"Gene, these are the Feds here for the kids." The young trooper that had picked them up from the small airport they'd landed at showed them into an office where an older man was standing beside a young female trooper who was attempting to get a baby to take a bottle. A red-eyed little boy sat sullenly in a chair near them, sipping from a juice box.

The man stepped away to greet them. "Agent Hotchner, Sergeant Hornell, welcome to Kentucky."

Hotch shook his hand. "Thank you. These are Agents Jareau and Morgan. If you don't mind, we'd like to get right into it. Is there some place private where my agents can question the boy?"

"We have a child interview room here, the only one in the county. I can take you there." He went to move toward the boy, but the child had already joined them, looking up at the agents hopefully.

"You're Emily's friends?" He asked.

JJ crouched to his level. "Yes, we are. I'm JJ."

"She said you'd take care of me and Carrie."

"We will, but first, we need to ask you some questions, to help us find your daddy and Emily. Can you do that?"

Kyle nodded vigorously. JJ smiled at him, and turned to Hotch and Morgan. Hotch turned to Hornell.

"Alright then, this way." He led them to a bright, carpeted room with a child's table and chair set, and toys and craft supplies of all kinds. The only thing that gave away its purpose was the large mirror in the wall.

Kyle seemed right at home, but JJ couldn't help but wonder, how many kids had passed through this room. How many children who didn't smile, and no light in their eyes?


	14. Chapter 14

_This picks up right where the last one left off, the team about to interview Kyle._

* * *

Hotch nodded JJ and Morgan into the room with the boy, choosing to remain outside where he could talk to the Sergeant.

"Are you Agent Morgan?" Kyle asked, as they sat with him at the table, on chairs too small to fit them comfortably.

"I am, you can call me Derek though." Morgan smiled, and offered the boy his hand to shake.

"You kick down doors," Kyle said as they shook.

JJ smirked at that, Morgan grinned. "Yes, sometimes I do, but right now, we're going to talk about you, okay?"

Kyle nodded.

"Alright, was Emily okay the last time you saw her?"

"Yes, but Daddy's going to be mad now, I'm afraid he's going to hurt her." He looked at Morgan with eyes shimmering.

"Why do you say that?"

He looked down at the table. "Emily sent us away. I didn't want to leave her, but she said I had protect Carrie."

Morgan nodded, and asked him a few more questions about their escape before moving on. "Where have you lived the last few days. Can you tell me that?"

He nodded. "A house on the mountain, in the woods. It looked like it was made of giant Linkin Logs."

Morgan and JJ shared a look, before glancing to the mirror, knowing Hotch would be on the phone with Garcia, feeding her the information.

"Do you remember anything else about the house?" JJ asked.

"It was big, but smaller than my house, and it had a big fireplace, but we didn't use it. Daddy said it was too warm for a fire."

"What did you do there?"

The boy shrugged. "Watched TV. Emily told me stories, she let me help her cook..."

"And, what about before the house on the mountain, can you tell us about before?" Morgan coaxed.

"Daddy made our hair red, and he made Emily's yellow." JJ and Morgan exchanged looks at that, both knowing Emily wouldn't have taken kindly to being forcibly made a blond.

"What else do you remember?" JJ asked.

"We were in the car a lot." He slouched as he said it, less than enthusiastic about it.

JJ leaned close. "Do you remember your Daddy hurting anyone?"

Kyle frowned. "He hurt Emily."

Both agents started. That wasn't what they were looking for, more a first person account of the homicide Rossi and Reid were in PA about. Morgan leaned down then. "How did he hurt Emily?"

"He hit her...when he got angry. He hit her with his gun and her face got all purple."

JJ inhaled sharply, saw the anger festering on Morgan's face and switched topics. "Did you see him hurt anyone else?"

"He hit the lady at the hotel in the head. Emily was angry, she said he killed her..." He looked down, his young, baby face holding more sorrow than it ever should have.

"Is there more Kyle?" JJ asked, tilting her head to try and see his eyes. He shook his still downcast head, but wouldn't look at them. "Kyle?"

"I didn't like staying in that place." When he lifted his head, they saw watery, red eyes, but he quickly looked down again.

"Did something else happen there?" Morgan asked, deep frown in his face, anger forgotten for the moment. When Kyle still didn't answer, Morgan moved to kneel down in front of the boy, taking his hands. "Kyle, whatever happened, it's not your fault, but we need to know."

"Did you daddy hurt you, Kyle?" JJ tried.

"No," he said, still hanging his head.

"What about your sister? Did he hurt her?" Morgan guessed.

Kyle shook his head.

"Emily?" Morgan almost winced as he asked. Kyle looked up, tears shimmering in his eyes, close to falling. He nodded, biting his lip. Morgan gave his hands a squeeze, even as his own throat tightened. "Can you tell me what he did?"

Kyle shook his head then, wiping at his eyes.

"Kyle, we need to know so we can help her when we find her," JJ explained. They already knew they'd need to treat for bruises, maybe even a head injury.

"You want to help her, right Kyle?" Morgan asked. Kyle nodded. "So tell us what your daddy did, so we can help her."

He nodded then, and began in a tear filled voice. "I was sleeping, Emily let me sleep with her. I woke up, and she was saying, 'stop, stop, stop', she was scared. She told me to close my eyes and put her hand on my ear." Kyle began to cry then. "The bed started moving, so I opened them. Emily's eyes were closed and she was crying. Daddy was behind her, and her dress was messed up." He choked on a sob. "Emily stops the bad guys, she doesn't get scared, what did daddy do to make her cry?" He continued crying, and threw himself at Morgan.

The profiler turned horrified eyes to his colleague. JJ was pale, a hand over her mouth, as she looked down at Morgan, and there was a telltale shine in her eyes.

She asked quietly, "Did he just describe what I think he did?"

Morgan nodded, but couldn't make a verbal response. Instead he lifted the boy up, and parked them both on one of the seats. JJ motioned to the door, and disappeared.

Her throat was tight, and her pulse was racing. She hadn't expected this, she probably should have, but she just hadn't. She leaned against a wall, noting that Hotch wasn't outside the room where she expected him to be. But within minutes, he came down the hallway, closing his phone.

He stopped when he saw her, frown deepening. "JJ?"

"He raped her."

JJ saw the transformation instantly in his features, and wondered if her face had showed the same. "You're sure?"

"It's pretty unmistakable from the kid's description. He doesn't know what happened, but he was in the bed when Bennett-" She inhaled and glanced away, before looking back. "He heard Emily saying stop, and saw her crying."

Hotch's frown deepened. "With his son right there?"

JJ nodded. At that moment, the door opened and Morgan came out, closing it quietly behind himself. They turned to see Kyle coloring in a book, still wiping at his eyes.

"Is he okay?" Hotch asked.

Morgan held up a finger, asking for a minute. They watched him walk down the hallway a ways, and then begin rapidly thrusting his fists into a wall. When he returned to them, he was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed fine. Minus the bloody knuckles.

"You could break your hands that way, save it for the bags at the gym," Hotch instructed.

"If I could save it, I'd have waited until we caught Bennett." There wasn't an ounce of joking in his voice. JJ gently rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze; she shared his anger and fear.

Morgan nodded to her, and cleared his throat. "She left us a note."

He led the way back to the center of the police station, and over to the baby, who was crying in the female trooper's arms, unhappy about something. The almost full bottle may have had something to do with it though. Morgan gently took the baby girl into his arms, bouncing her on his hip.

"Hey there little one, what's making you so mad?" As he said this, he reached to fingers into the little pocket on her pink dress, and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he handed off to Hotch.

JJ and Hotch focused on the paper while Morgan tried to quiet the baby using the same pacing method he'd seen Emily use. On one pass he grabbed the bottle, shifted her into a reclining position, and worked on coaxing her into taking it.

They found a page ripped from a coloring book, and Emily's hasty scrawls in black crayon. Seven words.

_Rapidly devolving._

_Killed maid._

_Crest Wood Cabins.

* * *

_

The log cabin was as Kyle described it: in the middle of the woods, on a mountain. Under other circumstances, it would be a beautiful place to spend a quiet week of vacation. It occurred to Morgan that Gideon would have liked it, but he quickly shook his head of those thoughts. This place was would likely be a place of nightmares for one of his closest friends.

Hotch threw the SUV in park, and they jumped out, staring up at the idyllic structure. The Sergeant and another trooper had come with them, and soon a forensics team would arrive from the Bureau field office in Louisville. At first, Morgan hadn't seen the point to a forensics team; it would tell them where Bennett had been, not where he was going. Hotch, ever the prosecutor, had pointed out that any and all evidence would assist in a conviction.

Morgan hadn't really been thinking about giving the guy a trial, he would much rather have just killed the bastard.

The cabin was one full live-in floor with a loft above that seemed to hold extra beds. Three bedrooms, a bathroom, a small kitchen area, and a living room were the extent, along with a large deck that wrapped around two sides of the house. Hotch and Morgan each headed into a bedroom, and Morgan quickly determined his was where Kyle had slept.

There was a moderate twin bed with balled up airplane pajamas at the end, and a stuffed dog by the pillow. Morgan grabbed the dog, and headed out, following Hotch's voice into another bedroom. This one had a foldable crib, obviously the baby's room. But, Hotch was standing by a chair, frowning so hard Morgan was afraid he might strain something.

"What've you got?" He asked.

"Look on the arm, the wear on the wood." The unit chief gestured to a section on the right arm of the chair where the dark finish had been scraped to reveal bits of the lighter wood underneath.

"You think he cuffed her to this chair?"

"Maybe...while she was caring for the baby. He knew she was trained by the Bureau, and could have overpowered him in a fight."

"Do you think he kept her handcuffed all the time?" Six days handcuffed to things, that had to be uncomfortable, if not down right painful.

"It's possible. It would have allowed him to control her." As long as they stuck with 'her', and not 'Emily' or 'Prentiss' they could analyze it like it was any other case and any other victim.

But it didn't stop the mental image of her cuffed to that chair, trying to quiet a child that wasn't hers, while Bennett stalked around with a loaded pistol.

"Agents," the Sergeant poked his head into the room, "I think your boys are here."

Hotch nodded, and they went outside to meet and greet with the forensic techs (one of whom was actually a girl), before instructing them to scour the house for anything and everything they could find. Covered in white Tyveck suits, and gloved up, the four person forensic team got straight to business.

Morgan and Hotch headed to the master bedroom with two of the techs tailing them, looking like the government scientists from ET. Morgan's eyes immediately went to familiar wear marks on the wooden headboard.

"Damn it," he growled, heading straight to it. The wear was more significant here, on the right side of the bed, deep scratches scarred the light, natural finished wood. "Hotch."

The Unit Chief was already beside him, studying the marks, with the same painfully deep frown he'd worn in the baby's room. He turned to the techs. "Check the bed for fluids."

Both men watched as the techs pulled back the sheets, spritzed the bed with Luminol, shut the curtains tightly, passed out orange glasses, and killed the lights, plunging the room into darkness. One tech flicked on a UV wand, and ran it over the surface, large patches fluorescing as the light hit them.

Morgan backed up, and put his hands on his head, trying to control the rage coursing through him. Squeezing his hands into fists, his eyes shut, his lips together, he took several deep breaths through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the lights were on, and the techs were pulling off the sheets to stow in an evidence bag.

"We need to find her, Hotch."

The other man nodded. "I know."

* * *

JJ was in Louisville, figuring she'd get a larger crowd of press, not to mention more of the bigger national publications, in the city. She stood in front of the Bureau field office, waiting for the crowd to quiet. Her stomach had been churning for hours, worry gnawing at her gut.

Hotch and Rossi stood behind her, while Reid and Morgan were inside with the kids. The jet pilots had been earning their pay and then some today, having returned to PA to retrieve Rossi and Reid, and would head back to Quantico tonight. With who had yet to be determined. They'd gotten a couple of significant leads, but it was still impossible to determine where Bennett would head.

"Thank you for coming," JJ began with her usual introduction. "I know a lot of rumors have been circulating, and you have a lot of questions, I'll try to get to them at the end. Kyle and Carolyn Bennett were found late this morning in Harlan County by the Kentucky State Police. The children were unharmed, and will remain in Bureau custody until Christopher Bennett is apprehended. The Bureau would like to thank the KSU for their quick action and assistance in this matter." She paused, inhaling deeply to maintain her composure. "At this time, we'd like to reiterate our request for help in finding Bennett. Our agent, Emily Prentiss is still being held against her will, and we now believe in grave danger."

Another breath, another attempt to coach herself into not feeling. "We know now, that Bennett is responsible for the death of a motel maid in Pennsylvania. We also believe that whatever stability Bennett might have had will have been decimated by the loss of his children. It should be stressed that he is armed, and very dangerous. We believe that he's heading south, possibly west, and driving a silver 1999 Dodge Neon. It should also be noted that he's dyed his hair a bright rust-red, and bleached Agent Prentiss's hair blond. SSA Hotchner will give an update on what to look for now." JJ stepped back, and allowed Hotch to take the microphone.

"Bennett will likely try to find another motel to stay at, so we're asking the owners of these establishments to keep an eye out. He will appear agitated and impatient, even angry. It's likely he's wearing sunglasses and a ball cap or other hat with a brim. He'll be paying for everything in cash, might try to hide from cameras, or rush through transactions. He'll have a woman with him, who won't leave the car except to enter the room, won't talk, and who'll appear completely submissive to him. He might talk to himself or seem incoherent at times. With the absence of his children, his delusion will begin to falter and he'll be determined to hang onto it however he can. If you see him, do not try to approach him or apprehend him, he's extremely dangerous. Call 911 or the Bureau tip line. Thank you." Hotch stepped back then, and let JJ return to the microphone to field questions.

She selected a waving hand, and braced herself. "How did the children escape?"

"Agent Prentiss engineered their escape." After they left to check out the cabin, she'd spoken at length with Kyle, and he'd elaborated on what he'd already told them.

"Why wasn't she able to escape with them?" Another voice asked.

"She was handcuffed to the door handle of the car."

"How do you know this? Have you been in contact with Agent Prentiss?"

"Through a witness, and no, we have not had contact with her." JJ said, maintaining their policy of not identifying child witnesses, even though they'd guess it was Kyle.

JJ selected another hand. "Do you know if she's been harmed?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

"Is that a yes?" The same person asked.

Rather than respond, JJ picked another person. "Yes, with their mother dead, and father...uh, indisposed, where will the children go after this is all over?"

"Their aunt is on a flight into the country as we speak. That's all for now. Thank you for coming." JJ quickly ended it, and hurried back into the building with Hotch and Rossi before any of the reporters could accost her for an exclusive.

* * *

Emily had never had any particular inclination to visit Alabama, and now that she was in it, she didn't feel any more attracted to it. That probably wasn't the state's fault though, or the shitty motel. At least, this shitty motel was pretty clean, which was more than she could say for the last one. She was, unsurprisingly, handcuffed to the headboard of the queen-sized bed, while Chris paced back and forth like a starving lion in a cage.

"We need to ditch the car. First thing tomorrow, we ditch the car."

"Okay," she said, as if she had a choice.

He looked up at her suddenly, staring blankly for a moment before speaking. "A redhead, you'd make a good redhead, and I'll go black. We'll do that tomorrow night."

Emily sighed. "We can't run forever, Chris. They'll find us sooner or later."

"No, I'll figure something out." He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, and caressed her cheek. "I won't let them take you from me."

"They have the whole country looking for us."

"Then we'll leave the country. Mexico, maybe? Or somewhere in South America. You speak Spanish, right?"

"Among other languages. What about the kids?" She tried to appeal to his paternal instincts. It failed.

"There's nothing I can do about that. I can't save them now..." He trailed off, looking at the ground, before his head shot up, and he stared at her with eyes so alive they almost glowed. "We can start a new family, me and you."

"Save them from what?" She asked, ignoring his last sentence.

"Do you remember when I proposed to you?"

"Yeah, we were on a yacht, your parents, my mother, and a bucket of oysters." She'd enjoyed the oysters.

"And, when the sun started to come down, and we headed inland, I fell to one knee, pulled out the diamond I'd been carrying around for months, and I asked you to be mine forever..." His eyes were unfocused, seeing their past-their idealized past.

"I know, I was there." Emily wasn't the most romantic person at the best of times, and right now...well, it wasn't the best, that was for damn sure.

Chris shot her a brief glare, but suddenly his expression changed, to needy and desperate. He grabbed her face, hands on either side of her head, under her hair, and pressed his mouth hard against hers. Then he stared at her, eyes a little crazy, thumbs rubbing the side of her face. "I know I've messed up, Em, but I promise I'll do better. I won't make you leave. I'll make you happy, I swear it, and you'll make me happy. It'll be what we always wanted, what we've dreamed of, nothing to get in the way."

Emily just stared back, unable to fathom a response as he ran in his hands over her head, and his wet eyes ran down his face.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "We'll be so happy, Em. I promise. You believe me right?"

She stared at the man promising her forever for the second time, and for the second time, she didn't want it.

The scary thing was, she believed him. He'd give her forever whether she wanted it or not.

* * *

_Little request for help here, does anyone know what kind of dog Clooney is? I don't remember them ever saying (or showing the animal), but I can't be sure, and I need to know for another story. So, if anyone knows, or can confirm that we don't know, I would be very, very grateful to you. Thanks!_

_Thank you again for the reviews, and of course, thanks for reading._


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you all who reviewed the last chapter, it made a rough week a little better. :) On that note, I think this is the chapter most of you have been waiting for, so read and enjoy! _

* * *

**Sunday**

Garcia couldn't focus on her computers, and it wasn't the fault of either of the kids in her office. She spun around in her chair, and watched them sleep. Kyle tucked into a sleeping bag graciously donated by one of the agents in the department, and Carrie in a fold-away crib from Hotch's attic.

These were the innocent children her friend had made a huge sacrifice to protect.

Garcia knew that part of their jobs was being self-sacrificing, was protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. Hell, every time they got into the head of a killer they gave up a tiny little piece of themselves to do it. She knew their jobs were dangerous. They were cops-no they were highly elite cops that chased down the worst of humanity with little regard for themselves. She knew all this, and she had for years.

It did not make it any easier. Watching them come back from cases hurt, knowing they were always in danger, seeing the broken looks on their faces after a case has been really bad. It still hurt her. Looking at those kids, and knowing they were okay because of Emily, didn't make it any easier to accept what she'd been through. What she was still going through.

When Derek had told her that they had evidence that Bennett raped Emily-more than once-Garcia didn't even bother trying not to cry. They were the strong ones that hid their emotions, she wanted to sob uncontrollably on a nice firm shoulder until she couldn't any longer. That's just how she was, and her Adonis had not failed her, freely offering his shoulder.

"You alright, Garcia?" She turned to see Reid in the doorway, watching her with concern.

She offered him a small smile. "Just want this nightmare to end." She sighed, and assumed her usual perkiness, even if she had to fake it. "What can I do for you, my darling boy genius?"

"Uh, I just came to check on the kids…how are they doing?"

"Baby woke up for a change and a snack once, and Kyle had a nightmare, but I calmed him down…he asked for his mommy, then he asked for Emily." That had just about broken her heart.

"JJ said he had Kyle calling her mommy."

Garcia cringed. "Wonder which one of them that freaked out more."

"He seems to be handling it pretty well, considering how traumatizing the last few weeks have been for him," Reid commented.

"Yeah, he's a tough kid."

"Children tend to adapt the coping methods of their caregivers."

"And, Emily has definitely been playing it tough," Garcia filled in his thought.

Reid offered a shy smile. "You think she knows any other way to play it?"

She snorted at that. "Speaking of playing it tough, has Morgan hit anymore walls?"

His poor knuckles were all black and blue, and doted in small, raw scrapes. At least the swelling disappeared quickly.

"No, but he did disappear to the gym for a while."

Garcia sighed. "Better than a wall."

* * *

If Emily were to judge the day based on how it began, it wasn't going to be good. She worked her underwear on with one hand, and pulled her dress back down. They'd had nothing to sleep in, their clothes all back at the cabin, so they'd slept in what they'd worn yesterday. For her it was a periwinkle dress and cardigan set, which gave Chris the same easy access as the night dresses. Today was the first time in the morning, usually he preferred nights. Of course, now Kyle wasn't around to walk in on it.

The cardigan was on the nightstand, removed before they got into bed last night. After the last week, she felt comfortable concluding that Sarah Bennett hadn't been much for pants.

It made her wonder how a man could love such dissimilar women. Sarah was everything Emily wasn't, and every reason it never would have worked between her and Chris. Aside from his apparent tendency toward violent psychotic episodes.

If she ever got married, that was going in the vows. _I promise to love, honor, and respect you, and consent to pharmaceutical intervention if I become psychotic…and a quickie divorce…as long as we both shall live. _She snorted, now that was romantic.

Emily pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing at the soreness between her legs. He was usually pretty rough with her, but this morning he'd been angry. She'd resisted. She knew it would piss him off, but getting the kids to safety had put new fight into her. She was glad Kyle hadn't been around to hear though, she hadn't been able to keep quiet. Chris was in the shower now, so Emily took the opportunity to rummage in the drawer of the table by her side of the bed.

All she found was paper, a pen, a bible, and the remote control for the TV. Ignoring the pain from the handcuffs digging into her raw skin, Emily maneuvered enough to write on the pad. Just a few quick phrases, before tearing off the sheet, folding it messily, and tucking it in the bible. Then she grabbed the remote and flicked through channels until a familiar face popped up.

Emily emitted a shaky sigh as she watched JJ announce that they had the kids safe. She wanted so badly to close her eyes, and wake up at her desk in the BAU. Even if she got doinked in the head with another one of Reid's physics-magic rockets. Hell, she'd have settled for getting dragged into Strauss's office for a sit-down chat. She quickly changed the channel as she heard the shower shut-off. Cartoons, cartoons were safe.

He came out only moments later, dressed and smiling. "Hey babe, I'll be ready to go in just a minute. I'm just going to check us out."

She didn't bother commenting. His moods had been getting more unpredictable and less pleasant. It took less to get him angry, and more to calm him down. And, the intensity that she'd seen Sunday night when he'd held that gun on her, had become a permanent fixture in his eyes.

She ignored him as he unlocked the door, and left the room, her eyes never leaving the blue and grey animated Batman on the screen. Last Sunday morning, she'd been spackling a wall, pretending she didn't know Morgan was enjoying her attire more than a friend should. She couldn't really judge, she'd returned that favor whenever he took his shirt off. That thought brought a tired smile to her face, the naughty things Garcia would use to describe that view…

Emily jumped when she heard the gunshot.

Eyes wide, she stared toward the door, starting again when Chris burst in, gun out in his right hand, face impassive, but eyes filled with fury. "Chris, what did you do?"

"Shut up. Time to go."

"No! God, did you kill the motel manager? Why?" She wiggled as he removed the cuff from the headboard and fastened it over her other wrist.

"Stop it," he warned, pointing the gun at her. He dragged her over to the door, and pulled it open.

Emily's pulse was throbbing through her head as they stepped outside, and both turned at the shriek of a woman. She was young, late twenties maybe, and had a toddler in her arms; her eyes were wide at the sight of Chris and his gun.

He lifted his gun and fired, and Emily watched in horror as the woman fell, and blood blossomed on her mint green shirt, and her son's baby blue polo. A man appeared at the door of the hotel room, face stricken and pale with horror, and Chris fired again. Emily pushed him hard, and the shot went wide. He smacked her, and fired again at the man, who ducked inside, but Chris wasn't quick enough to steel himself against Emily's blow. With all her strength, she drew back her cuffed hands, and brought them down high up on his back.

"Ah! Damnnit!" He cursed, his balance off long enough for Emily to duck back in the room, and slam the door shut, locking it and sliding the chain in place.

"Emily! Emily damn it, open the fucking door!" He shouted, twisting the knob in vain. "Emily! Open the door!"

Sirens screamed suddenly in the distance, and she heard Chris curse loudly. Loud footsteps led away from the door, a car door slammed, and an engine turned over. Emily peered out the window in time to see the Neon speed off down the road, away from the sirens.

Emily scrambled over to the closet, and grabbed the phone Chris had disconnected and stored away so she couldn't use it. Her heart was beating so fast, her chest hurt and it was hard to breathe. With shaking fingers, she stuck the cord into the wall, and sat with the device on her lap, checking for a dialed tone. A high-pitched gasp of glee erupted from her mouth at the familiar sound. Struggling to calm down, she dialed a familiar number with hands still trembling.

* * *

Hotch had sent Rossi, Reid, and Morgan back to Quantico last night to take care of the kids and monitor the tip line. He and JJ had stayed in Kentucky with hopes of being closer to wherever Bennett would head to next. During the night, the brief naps they'd settled down to take had been interrupted by a phone call from Reid, telling them about a tip that looked good. A gas station clerk in Tennessee was certain he'd seen Bennett come through in a silver Neon around four that afternoon.

They were right, he was heading south.

"We should go to Mississippi," JJ suggested. "He can only go so far south, before he has to pick another direction."

"I agree, but I think Louisiana might be better." Hotch pointed to the small piece of Mississippi between Alabama and Louisiana. "There isn't much there, he'll drive right through, and give us his trajectory the next time he stops for gas."

"And, we'll know exactly where to add extra patrols in Louisiana." She nodded. "Okay...do you want to call the others back?"

Hotch nodded, and dialed Rossi on his cell, switching it to speaker.

"We don't have anything new," the older man answered. "And, you're on speaker."

"Louisiana. We think that's our best shot at intercepting him. We're going to take the jet down, and I'll send it back to Quantico. One of you stays with the kids, and the other two meet us in Louisiana," Hotch instructed.

"We had the same thought," Reid answered. "Texas might be an option as well, but Louisiana is definitely the best."

"You guys really think you can find him down there?" Garcia's voice was hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she wanted that answer.

"We're going to try," JJ assured her.

"Who do you want down there, Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"Doesn't matter, as long as someone stays with the Bennett kids." He trusted all of them.

"I'm not really good with kids..." Reid commented anxiously.

"I'll stay with the kids," Rossi volunteered. JJ and Hotch shared a surprised look, Rossi had never showed much interest in children.

"You sure?" Morgan asked.

"As long as Garcia can do the heavy lifting, I can be the muscle."

"And, I do so enjoy muscle," Garcia joked.

"Behave yourself, babygirl. There's kids in the room," Morgan reminded her.

"And, they're both playing quietly like little angels."

Stifling a smile at their banter, Hotch cut the conversation off. "Alright, we'll see you down there in a few hours then."

They exchanged goodbyes, and Hotch and JJ flagged down a Kentucky trooper for a ride to the airfield. They were barely five minutes from the jet when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but answered with his standard greeting. "Hotchner."

"Hotch?" He may have actually started at the sound of her voice.

"Prentiss? Are you alright?" He turned to see JJ staring at him with wide eyes, and he motioned her to start a trace.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay. Chris, he...he s-shot a woman and her kid."

Hotch ignored the panic in her voice, something he'd never heard before. "Is Bennett with you now?"

"No, I uh, locked myself in the room, and he drove off...sirens, cops coming."

He sighed in relief. "Prentiss, do you know where you are?"

"Motel in Alabama, last sign I saw was for, um, Speam or something like that."

"Alright, we're tracing it now. We're on our way to the jet, and we'll be there as soon as we can," he promised.

"I'll leave the phone off the hook, I've got to go help the people he shot."

"Wait, Prentiss!" But, he could already hear her moving away from the phone.

* * *

The man was already outside, crying and trying to stop his son from bleeding. Emily slid down beside his wife, and immediately put her hands over the wound in her chest. Blood poured out over her hands and the silver handcuffs. She looked at the little boy, and noticed the wound in the center of his upper back. If he lived, he'd probably never walk again, maybe never be able to move his arms either.

He couldn't have been much older than Henry.

A cruiser with flashing lights and Alabama State Police written on the side in red and black zoomed into the parking lot. One trooper jumped out, while the other remained for a minute, likely radioing in for emergency services and back-up.

Emily held her hands on the young woman's bloody chest until a paramedic arrived and shooed her away. One of the cops pulled her off to the side, and shouted questions at her. At least it sounded like shouting, her head was fuzzy and she couldn't hear much of anything. She watched a second set of paramedics take the toddler, and try to jump start his heart. It all felt so slow, his little body jerking up and landing back down, his hysterical, blood-covered father crying and yelling, the cop beside her tugging on the cuffs, trying to ask who she was, what was going on.

And, then one of the medics shook his head. The other one called time of death, watching the father shout and scream in full-blown hysterics. The second paramedic approached the distraught man, and held his arms, as he colleague moved forward with a needle. The man was unconscious in seconds.

People were finally venturing out of their rooms, the melee somewhat controlled. State troopers were meeting them at doors and trying to coax them back inside, pulling out notepads so they could take statements. One young officer appeared at the door to the motel office, waving urgently at his colleagues. The ambulance with the mother took off, as another one arrived at the scene.

Emily swallowed, staring at all the flashing lights, all the people running around, and finally the two cops that were trying to talk to her. Suddenly, everything went black.


	16. Chapter 16

_Thank you so much everyone who reviewed the last chapter. And little warning, there's not much sunshine in this chapter, sorry guys. _

_

* * *

_"Excuse me, I'm looking for Agent Rossi?" A pretty, young blonde stopped him as he went through the bullpen.

Rossi smiled. "You found him. David Rossi, what can I help you with?" He offered her his hand.

"Cassie Bennett, I was told I should ask you about my niece and nephew?"

He started momentarily, before catching himself. "Come with me, please."

He led her to his office, and sat her down, switching his usual lady-killer charm for more subtle empathy. "Ms. Bennett, how much were you told about why Kyle and Carrie are here?"

"First they told me that Sara had been murdered, and then when I got state-side it was something ridiculous about Chris taking hostages." She rolled her eyes, waving her hands around.

"You sister-in-law was murdered two weeks ago. We apprehended her killer, he's in the custody of Albany PD," he paused, letting her assimilate the information.

"Oh god," was all she managed.

"I know this is difficult, Ms. Bennett, so stop me if you need to. The night apprehended Sara's killer, one of our agents-your brother's former fiancée-went to his home to see him. That night, your brother suffered a psychotic break and took her, and his children as hostages, and left town. We got the children back yesterday, they are here in the BAU. Do you understand this all so far?" He didn't want to feed her too much at once.

"You're joking, right? Chris would never hurt anyone, especially his own kids!"

"I'm sorry, it's not a joke. We spent the last week trying to track your brother down. He's still in the midst of a psychotic episode. We're still trying to find him."

She shook her head. "No...no, this isn't true. I can't believe this, this doesn't make any sense!"

"There's more, Ms. Bennett, are you okay to hear it?"

She looked at him, completely bewildered, but nodded. "My colleagues are in Alabama now retrieving our agent from a motel where your brother shot and killed three people, including a young child. He also killed a maid in Pennsylvania. He's very sick and he needs help."

Her hand went up to her mouth, and her eyes grew red with the beginnings of tears. "W-who did you say this agent was?"

"His former fiancée, Emily Prentiss."

"Emily...of course she's involved in this." Cassie shook her head, looking at her lap.

Now _that_ Dave, had not expected to hear. "What do you mean?"

"She almost ruined his life once. When she left him, Chris went into a deep depression; it's why he can't advance past state government. She nearly destroyed him then, so it doesn't surprise me that she'd be around now. She's poison."

"I think that's a little extreme, Ms. Bennett. Agent Prentiss went to your brother's home that night because he asked for help, and she's suffered dearly for her charity," Rossi said, careful to maintain his calm.

"He didn't snap until she showed up, did he?"

"That wasn't her fault."

"So you say, she's 'your agent' as you put it, you'll obviously defend her."

Rossi smiled. "And, he's your brother, you obviously need to find someone else to blame, because it's too hard to imagine him as a monster." He took a breath then. "In fact Ms. Bennett, you should be thanking Agent Prentiss, she's protected your niece and nephew and got them to safety at great expense to herself."

"They wouldn't have been in danger if she hadn't come back into his life," she argued, before shaking her head, and drying at tears. "Can I take them home now?"

"I'm afraid not. They're going to remain under our protective custody until Chris is apprehended."

She sighed loudly. "Is that really necessary? It's not like he's going to hurt them."

"Yes, I'm afraid it is, but I can take you to see them, if you'd like?"

She thought a minute. "No, that's alright. I don't want to have to explain this to Kyle."

Rossi nodded. "I'd like to ask you some questions, if that's alright."

"I guess so."

"Chris was last seen in Alabama, and we believe he's going to head south or west. Do you know where he might go? Any place you might have gone as children, or he'd taken his family on vacation?"

"I don't know. We didn't travel much in the country when I was a kid, it was mostly Europe and the Caribbean, Australia and New Zealand once. We went to Aspen and Hawaii, but I think that's it. And, I don't think Chris took Sara and the kids anywhere in the states. He mentioned something about Disney World in a few years, but I don't really remember them going anywhere within the country."

Rossi sighed. "How about business trips, anywhere he's familiar with? Any trips he took as a single man?"

Cassie hesitated, struggling to remember. "Well, there was this one place he went…"

* * *

It was Snead, not Speam, as Emily had thought, and it took them just over half an hour on the jet, and another fifteen minutes in a speeding, state police SUV with it's sirens screaming. The scene was pure bedlam, the chaos exacerbated by inexperienced cops dealing with a triple homicide.

The manager of the Snead Motor Lodge was DOA, a two and a half year old boy died at the scene, and the mother died in the ambulance, so the Alabama State Police Officer had informed them. The father was sedated and en-route to a hospital, and a woman claiming to be an FBI agent, but without any ID, and who'd been found handcuffed at the scene was still there, refusing to go until the FBI got there.

JJ glanced around the scene trying to locate her friend, reminding herself to look for blonde hair, not black.

"You the feds?" A woman stopped them as they walked toward the scene.

"SSA Hotchner, SSA Jareau," Hotch introduced them.

"Lieutenant Peters." She extended her hand. "The woman you're looking for is in that ambulance."

"Is she injured?" JJ asked, looking toward where Peters had indicated.

"Shock probably. Dropped in a dead faint earlier, scared the piss outta two of my rookies. She's conscious now though, and the medics are monitoring her."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. We'll join you after we see her," Hotch said. The woman nodded, and JJ immediately started jogging toward the ambulance.

Emily was laying on a gurney in the back of the ambulance, a medic beside her. He leaned down and must have told her they had company, because she sat up quickly. JJ physically moved back seeing all the bruising on her face, and could feel Hotch react beside her. Her hair had been cut shortly-poorly cut-and indeed bleached.

After a minute, JJ climbed into the ambulance, and hugged her friend tightly, tears already pricking her eyes. "Thank god, you're alright."

Emily squeezed her back, and JJ could feel her body humming with adrenaline. They pulled apart after a minute. "Are Kyle and Carrie alright?"

"Yeah, they're at Quantico with Garcia and Rossi."

"Ma'am, I'd like you get you to a hospital now. Your friend can ride along if you want," the very patient medic interrupted.

"What's your assessment?" Hotch finally made himself known.

"Her blood pressure and pulse rate were sky high when we got here, they'd dropped a little now, but are still too high. She needs treatment for shock, treatment for those bruises, which will probably involve a CT or MRI, and her wrists are badly infected, and the fabric has started to fuse into the wounds." The tech listed her injuries, glancing at Emily now and again.

JJ looked at her wrists and couldn't hide a wince. What was probably once white was gray with grime, frayed at the ends, heavily soaked in blood. That's when she noticed the blood on Emily's purple dress. "Are you…what's all the blood from?"

Emily looked confused, glanced down at herself, and then just looked sad. "The woman, I tried to stop the bleeding."

JJ squeezed her hand, and felt another surge of relief that it hadn't been Emily lying on the ground with a hole in her chest.

Hotch's voice startled both women, as he addressed the medic. "Where's the closest hospital qualified to administer a SAEC?"

JJ watched Emily's eyes widen and mouth open, before she snapped it shut and looked away, as if she was ashamed. As if it was her fault.

"Not in this town. Oneonta, the county seat has the closest. It's about 20 minutes south of here."

"Take her there," Hotch instructed, turning for a moment. "Lieutenant!"

Peters came over. "Something I can do for you?"

"Agent Jareau is going to accompany Agent Prentiss to the hospital. I'd like two of your people to meet them there, and escort them to the airfield when they're done."

"Sure thing. What hospital?"

The medic answered for him. "Oneonta General."

She nodded, "I'll make sure they're there when you get there."

Hotch stepped into the ambulance, and gave Emily's free hand a gentle squeeze. He addressed both women. "The jet's on its way to Quantico to get Morgan and Reid, by the time your done at the hospital, it should be back. Emily, I want you to stay at Quantico tonight, it's the safest place for you with Bennett still out there, and I don't want to take any chances."

Emily and JJ both nodded, and he and the paramedic jumped out, the latter shutting the doors, leaving them alone in the back. JJ moved to the bench beside the gurney, trying not to dislodge any of the carefully stored medical supplies.

"How did you know? Did Kyle see that much?" Emily suddenly asked.

JJ took her hand again. "He doesn't know what actually happened, but he knew it was something bad, and his description was enough for us to fill in the blanks. And, we have the sheets from the hotel in Pennsylvania and the cabin in Kentucky in evidence...I'm so sorry, Emily."

The other woman simply nodded, and laid down on the gurney, turning her head away again.

The ride to the hospital gave JJ a chance to really study Emily, and the damage Bennett had caused. The bruising was mostly along the left side of the face, and on the lower right around her jaw. Her eyes looked sunken in, and the dark bags added to the evidence that she hadn't slept much the past week. She'd lost weight, so it was also pretty clear that she hadn't been eating much. Not that any of that really surprised JJ, but it did make her wish a little bit that she'd be there to help bring in Bennett.

* * *

They started with a CT scan, taking her into the testing room, and leaving JJ with a clipboard of forms. While they waited for the film to be ready, a young male doctor poked at the swelling on her face, and ran his fingers along her head. He even ran through a few neurological assessments, which she passed with flying colors. When the nurse finally brought the scans, he took a few minutes to study them, before telling her that she didn't have a concussion, bleeding in the brain, or any visible brain damage.

As if she hadn't known that all already.

Then there were blood and urine samples, before they got to work on her wrists. A local, a truck full of iodine, and a scalpel, and a plastic surgery resident was very carefully separating the dirty, bloody socks from her flesh. It was the first time in days her wrists didn't ache painfully. They got pictures before they did it, to document all her injuries, part of any standard SAEC. Every bump and bruise, at least if the victim had physical marks.

Victim.

Emily had never thought of herself that way.

But, to anyone in the criminal justice system that's exactly what she was. She'd been abducted, held prisoner for seven days, beaten, and raped repeatedly. Victim. That last one most of all…she hadn't planned on telling anyone about it. She didn't want anyone to know, even the people she thought of as family. Especially them. Emily didn't want them looking at her and thinking that word. Victim.

She didn't want to look at herself and think that word.

"How are you doing, Agent Prentiss?" The doctor suddenly asked, not looking up from his work.

"Fine."

"Good, one wrist done, one too go. So far, it doesn't look so bad. It's pretty raw, but nothing we can't fix with some cream and gauze. There will be scars, but nothing too ugly, I don't think."

"Thanks." That was the extent of their conversation through the procedure, which was fine for her. They took another set of pictures after he finished, and then he left an intern to apply the cream, and carefully wrap her destroyed wrists in gauze.

JJ was waiting outside when they finished, a nurse beside her. "You ready for the kit, Honey?"

She shot JJ an, 'is she kidding' look, but still said, "Sure."

They walked down to another room, where little boxes and packages were laid out in perfect order. The cheery nurse motioned her to sit on the exam bed, and JJ nodded to her and turned to leave.

"JJ," she called. The media liaison turned, and seemed to read her eyes, the tension in her body, and came back into the room. "Thank you."

Rather than verbally respond, JJ squeezed her hand.

"Alright Honey, I'm going to ask you some questions, then we'll do pictures, and then the actual exam. Alright?"

Emily nodded. They ran through the basics: age, last menstrual cycle, do you drink/smoke/have sex, birth control methods (she had an IUD, thank god), and do you have any illnesses she should be aware of, including STIs. That was all fine, it was only when she asked her to describe what happened that Emily froze. After a couple silent minutes, she managed come up with an answer.

"Which time?"

_

* * *

A SAEC (pronounced sase) is a Sexual Assault Evidence Collection kit, otherwise know as an SAE, SAFE (SA Forensic Evidence), Rape kit and many other names. The name and collection materials differ by jurisdiction, so I picked the name I'm used to and didn't specify the materials, since I don't know what Alabama uses. _

_IUDs are like 99.9% effective, or something like that, so if you haven't already guessed, she did not get pregnant from Chris. _

_Thanks for reading, and happy Labor Day! _


	17. Chapter 17

"Hotch! How is she!" Morgan called out as he and Reid jogged up to their boss, passing uniformed Alabama troopers as they maneuvered through the command station they'd set up at the hotel. They'd dropped Emily's go-bag in JJ's room, and headed straight to the crime scene.

The Unit Chief turned to them, same severe expression on his face that he usually wore. "She's at the hospital, JJ's with her. They're going back to Quantico when they're done there."

Morgan was instantly disappointed, and he could see the same emotion in Reid's face. They wanted to see Emily, to force their brains to believe that she really was alright. Hotch seemed to read their faces, and his showed the slightest bit of sympathy.

"We have work to do. The sooner we capture Chris Bennett, the sooner we get home." _And, you can see her. _

Reid nodded, but Morgan couldn't quite drop it yet. "She was alright, though?"

Hotch inhaled. "I didn't see her for very long, but she seemed like herself."

Morgan nodded, his body relaxing the smallest bit. That was good news, the best he could expect under the circumstances. Of course, he already knew his friend could take a hell of a whollop, and still pull herself off the ground and insist it she was fine. This though, had been different, and even with Hotch's words, he knew she wouldn't be walking away this time without some deep, emotional scars.

"What do we know?" Reid asked.

"They stayed in that room last night," Hotch pointed the room in front of the command center tent. The door was open, and crime scene techs and cops were still coming in and out. "There was no luggage, but we didn't expect to find any. There was fast food wrappers and empty cups in the garbage, the shower was damp, and the headboard showed wear, presumably from handcuffs."

"The sheets?" Morgan asked, body already tensing for the information he didn't really want to know.

"Yes," Hotch answered slowly. "Already taken as evidence."

Morgan breathed out, forcing himself to stay calm. He could tell by the tension in his boss's face, that Hotch was curbing his anger as well. Reid was staring at the ground, struggling with the information, continuing his recent taciturn habits.

"You find any maps or anything to suggest where he might be heading?"

"No. I think his endgame was the cabin, and now he's just running wherever."

Morgan nodded. Reid stared off toward the hotel room, seemingly lost in thought.

Hotch pressed on. "We're not sure why he shot the manager, it's possible he was recognized. The woman must have seen him pulling Emily out of the room, and waving the gun around. The child was in the way..."

"He's rapidly devolving," Reid commented. "He's more like a spree killer now, running until he's cornered by the police and he knows it's over."

"If he's following the profile of a spree killer, he'll try to take as many people as possible with him."

Reid shook his head. "I don't think he'll follow it that closely. He'll gladly kill whoever gets in his way, and he may kill himself when he knows he's cornered, but I think the only people he'd try to take down with him are Prentiss and the kids."

"I agree," Hotch said. "He's not angry at the world, just desperate, delusional, and in denial."

"Do you think he'll let us take him alive?" Morgan asked.

Hotch looked to Reid, who shrugged, before answering. "I don't know, but if it comes down to a negotiation, I want Rossi out here."

"Agents," A voice suddenly took their attention, a young man with a bible in his latex gloved-hands.

"What's that?" Morgan asked, foregoing introductions or pleasantries.

The officer gently pulled the book open, revealing an unevenly folded sheet of paper. He then unfolded the paper, laying it open on the book. Hotel stationary, and the rushed, somewhat awkward print they'd seen before, which would have been alone enough to identify it.

_Emily Prentiss, Hostage_

_HELP_

_SSA Aaron Hotchner, FBI_

"Prentiss's version of a breadcrumb trail?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know how well it would have worked, this might not have been found for days," Reid said. "How many people actually open the bible in their hotel room?"

"Not you, obviously," Morgan joked. Reid just shrugged.

They were interrupted by a ringing phone, all four men grabbing for their phones. Hotch was the winner, flipping his open, and answering with a curt, "Hotchner."

"It's Dave, I think we might have something for you."

"What did you find?"

"The sister finally got here, and she told me about he place he went to a while back. A dude ranch in Texas. He was there about a year after Prentiss left him, an attempt to regain his manhood, according to the sister. Apparently, he went there for a month, and ended up staying for three. She said he was much better when he came home, like he'd regained much of himself."

Hotch nodded. "Sounds like a place he might try to go again."

"I had Garcia dig in his financial records for the name."

"Yeah, and I had to remind him that bank records weren't online 14 years-ago," Garica cracked. "Fortunately, Bennett was so anal, he kept paper records, which we had Albany PD retrieve and fax us. He's been to this place a few times over the years, just not recently enough to turn up in online records. It's Coyote-Call Wilderness Ranch, in the middle of nowhere west Texas. They specialize in a less touristy, aka less pansy approach to the dude ranch experience. Real cowboy-stuff like cattle-drives, sleeping under the stars, and eating spicy nachos. For the gentleman that needs to prove he still has his balls."

Hotch lips turned up just the tiniest bit before he tampered his amusement. "I don't imagine I need to ask you for the address?"

"Of course not. It's already on your phone." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Thanks, Garcia. Dave, if this turns into a standoff, I want you here to negotiate."

"I'll get on the jet after it arrives with the girls, just let me know where you'll be."

"Will do. Thanks." He hung up, already dreading the conversation with Strauss after she saw the bill for the pilots and fuel.

* * *

After they finished with her at the hospital, they'd gone back to the hotel, where Emily got to pee and shower without anyone watching for the first time in a week. And, put on her own clothes, including bra and underwear. The nurse had taken the clothes she'd been wearing as part of the rape kit, and provided her with sweatpants, a sweatshirt and underwear from a donation bin. They'd had no shoes to fit her, and that caused a minor fuss until she'd told them just to give her crime scene booties and she'd be fine. Her go-bag included a pair of sneakers.

The two officers who'd followed them through the hospital and drove them to the hotel, also drove them to the airfield. The pilot conferred briefly with JJ, politely ignoring Emily's face-which she'd knew looked pretty ugly. He was their usual pilot, and used to ignoring the minor injuries they sometimes went home with. He must have known she was missing, because before going into the cockpit, he'd nodded to her, and commented that it was nice to see her safe.

Her face had been plastered on TV for a week, she knew she'd have to brace herself for unwanted recognition and press attention. The former was distasteful, but she'd rather burn her toes off with rusty iron than deal with the press. Hopefully, JJ could control them for a while, even just long enough for her to get her head screwed back on. She actually looked forward to protective custody in the BAU. Unless it was for a pre-approved press conference, the vultures weren't allowed on the base.

She and JJ settled into seats across from each other, and JJ pulled out a paper bag with sandwiches and bottles of water. Emily didn't particularly feel like eating, but she took a long drink of water. After a minute, she sensed the media liaison staring at her.

Emily turned to her. "What?"

"When was the last time you ate?"

She sighed. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately." The truth was, she hadn't been able to eat much since the first night Chris raped her. Unfortunately, part of her compartmentalizing to deal meant turning herself off, feeling nothing, which also meant no appetite.

"You need to eat something," JJ pressed.

Emily nodded tiredly, and unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. She _was_ hungry, she just had to get through the mental block.

"I talked to Rossi earlier. Garcia called your mother to let her know you were okay...she's getting on a flight late tonight and will be in Virginia sometime tomorrow." JJ spoke carefully, obviously unsure how Emily would take that.

"She's flying on an overnight flight from Argentina?" Her mother hated flying through the night, it was impossible to sleep well, and you always ended up looking tired. It's hard to look competent and powerful when you looked like you slept on a park bench-one of Emily's earliest travel lessons from the Ambassador.

"Yeah, I guess she wants to see for herself that you're okay."

"My mother hates overnight flights."

JJ shrugged. "She's your mother, she's worried."

Emily opened her mouth to make a smart comment about that, but froze, suddenly nervous. "You guys didn't tell her that I was...did you?"

"No. The only people who know are the team and some of the local cops. They know better than to blab to the press about that, and I made sure their supervisors and I both spoke to them about it. It will go on record though, and if there's a trial it's going to come out."

Emily immediately relaxed. "I know." She went silent for a while, staring out the window at nothing, before abruptly looking back at JJ. "I used to love him."

The media liaison didn't try to hide her surprise.

"I told you I'd tell you about him."

She sighed, "Em, you don't have to worry about that now."

"It's okay, I could use a little normalcy now."

JJ could tell she wasn't quite all there, but decided to let her talk if that's what she needed. "Sure, tell me about it."

"He was my first real love, and I was crazy about him. That's why it took me until three weeks before the wedding to break if off, a big part of me didn't want to do it. That part of me was ready to be Mrs. Christopher Bennett, and sacrifice my dreams to be together…But, I knew I'd only be happy so long before I just ended up resenting and hating him…My last birthday we were together he took me to this bed and breakfast in uh, Maine. It was chilly and we spent the whole time huddled together, and having sex in front of the fireplace. A week ago that was still in my top five birthdays; now I think about that and…and if I let myself feel," she swallowed, hand near her mouth. "I feel so sick." Her voice cracked. "Just thinking about him touching me or," she inhaled and covered her mouth, "it's doesn't matter that it was fifteen years, not a few days ago, and he never hurt me then, but now, I just…" She shook her head, hand over her mouth.

JJ slid out of her seat, and beside Emily, tentatively touching her shoulder. When the profiler didn't automatically flinch or recoil, JJ gently pulled her into a tug. After a few seconds of initial tension, Emily relaxed, and held her back. JJ could feel the tremors running through her friend's body, and soft gasps as she struggled to breath around the emotion threatening to choke her, but there was no trace of the tears she wouldn't let herself shed.

After a while they separated, and JJ squeezed her hand. "You should try to get a little sleep, we have to take your statement when we get back."

Emily nodded, and moved to one of the sofas, falling asleep fairly quickly in the familiar, comforting space. She slept almost two hours before she jerked awake violently, and nearly toppled onto the floor. Wide-eyed, her chest heaving, Emily glanced around the plane, assuring herself that she wasn't back in a hotel room with Chris. She settled on JJ, the blond having fallen asleep at the table, and righted herself on the sofa. She moved back opposite her, and stared out the window for the remainder of the flight.

_

* * *

So, I'm sure some of you will be disappointed, since you were expecting to see the whole team rallying around Emily, but they have to catch Chris. And yes, the reunion between Morgan and Emily will be delayed, but it'll be worth it, or at least I'll try my damnedest to make it worth the wait. _

_On that note, the next part might be delayed until Saturday, it depends on how the rest of the week goes. I almost skipped posting tonight, so yeah, it's been a busy week and I'm already tired. _

_Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have reviewed and will review._


	18. Chapter 18

When they walked off the jet, Rossi was there, go-bag in his hand, and a smile at seeing Emily in one piece.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said, giving her a gentle hug.

It was almost what she'd greeted Emily with, but now JJ wondered if 'alright' was the appropriate word. Even with a shower, food, and a little sleep, Emily still looked like hell. Her whole body sagged with exhaustion-physical and emotional, and it would take more than a shower to wash the horror of the past week off her.

"Thanks...you meeting up with the guys?" Emily asked him.

"Yeah, Hotch wants me around to negotiate if the need arises. Don't worry, we'll catch him," he promised.

Emily simply nodded, and tried to give him a smile. It came out more like a grimace.

He squeezed her shoulder with a hand. "I've got to go, we're only stopping in Alabama to get the rest of the team, and then flying to Texas." He turned to JJ. "There was a swarm of press making their way into Quantico when I left, they there for you?"

"Yeah, they're early."

"Good luck," he told her, and turned to Emily, "Get some rest."

They both nodded at him, and watched him disappear onto the jet. Then Emily turned to her. "Press conference?"

"Yeah, the murders already made the local and national news, and the talking heads are discussing rumors that you've been found." She noted Emily unhappy expression. "Don't worry, we'll go in the usual way and no one we'll see us."

The profiler nodded, exhaling deeply. There was a back entrance that the agents used that saved them from the guards and metal detectors in the front of the building-which the press would have to go through. Up until earlier that week, it had been quite a while since JJ gave a press conference in a Bureau room meant for it. Now, this was twice in one week.

They took the car Rossi had driven to the airport in, and didn't run into any press getting into Quantico. Even getting into the BAU was clear, both were on the ground floor, but fortunately on opposite ends of the building. Emily had declined-as JJ had expected-participating in the press conference. The surprised, repulsed expression on her face at the offer was almost comical.

They had the immediate attention of the bullpen when they entered, so they dropped their bags, and went straight to Garcia's office. They were accosted as soon as they entered the office, but not by the tech goddess. Kyle got a glimpse of Emily, and leapt off the chair he was spinning on, and with only a little wobbling, zoomed toward her.

"Emily!" He shouted, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her lower half, his head on her belly. JJ put an hand on her friend's arm to steady her when she teetered. She watched relief flood over Emily's features as she hugged the little boy, the last worry in her mind exercised as she saw for herself that the kids were okay.

It was when she straightened up, that Garcia blurted out, "Oh my."

Emily froze and stared at her. Garcia's mouth sat open a minute before she gathered her wits.

"Honey, that hair is criminal."

Emily actually chuckled at that, her smile slightly contorted by the bruising on her face. "Tell me about it. I look like a cheap hooker."

"Worst kind of hooker to look like."

"What's a hooker?" Kyle asked, startling both women. JJ instantly starting laughing, which got Garcia and Emily laughing, and poor Kyle just looked around at them in vexed curiosity.

When they stopped laughing, Garcia was on her feet hugging Emily with a ferocity only she could achieve. When she pulled back, JJ saw the tears pricking her eyes.

"Oh Kitten," she said, studying the bruising on Emily's face and then the bandages on her wrists, "what did that man do to you..."

"I'm alright, Garcia. Sore, but in one piece." Her voice cracked.

The tech was about to comment when a shrill cry interrupted them, drawing their attention to the foldable crib in the corner. Carrie was awake and unhappy. Emily was over by her in seconds, almost reflexively, JJ noted. After playing mother to the baby for a week, it wasn't much of a surprise.

As she watched Emily check the baby's diaper, and fish in the nearby bag for supplies, she thought, not for the first time, her friend would be a good mother. If only she stopped dating jerks.

"Alright, I've got to go give a press conference," she said, realizing that she was probably late now.

"Yeah, have fun with that, sweetie," Garcia told her, sarcasm clear in her voice.

JJ smiled and rolled her eyes, disappearing out the door, running through what she needed to say in her head.

* * *

Reid was staring out a window, as the jet moved through the sky, bound for Texas. They'd watched JJ's press conference earlier, where she confirmed they'd found Emily, but not Bennett, dodged questions on injuries Emily may have suffered, and pled for help once again, warning that Bennett was moving south, and likely west to western Texas. She'd made the six o'clock news, and would probably make every news report through tomorrow morning.

The press had been their usual organized mass of vultures. That analogy was one he hadn't understood until joining the BAU. They wait around for bodies to fall, and swarm like scavengers, eager for their pound of flesh. He knew they had a job to do, and not all were that bad, but still, sometimes he wanted to grab them and shake them, and demand to know how they lack any trace of empathy.

More than one of them had asked to see Emily, asked if she was going to give a statement. JJ had patiently explained that after her harrowing experience, she wasn't up to addressing the press right then. They'd asked if she was injured and how badly, as if the damage Bennett caused was salacious gossip. JJ informed them that she wasn't at liberty to comment except to say that she was safe and doing alright. But, the scavengers wanted more. JJ had ended to press conference then, and Reid had noted that she was struggling to maintain her calm.

"Talk to me, kid." Morgan was suddenly sitting across from him, face neutral, but concern evident in his eyes to anyone who knew him.

"About what?"

Morgan half-sighed, half-laughed. "You've been quiet all week, Reid, barely opening your mouth unless we're working the profile. Talk to me. Don't stew."

"I'm not stewing."

"This isn't stewing?"

"No...it's coping."

"Coping?"

"Yes, people cope in different ways. You punch walls," Reid nodded to his raw, scabbing knuckles, "and I sit and think."

"Alright Genius, what are you thinking about?"

"The team."

"What about it?"

"Other than my mother, I've never really been this close to anyone, and I've never been part of a close knit group before this..." He trailed off, eyes turning toward the table, unfocused.

Morgan nodded. "You're not the only one. None of us are great about letting people in."

"I guess I'm wondering if it's worth it, us all being so close."

"Because things like this happen?"

Reid thought silently for a minute, before answering. "Because they'll always happen."

Morgan froze, mouth open, watching him. "Kid, are you asking me if it's worth it to be close to people at all?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And, what's the alternative? Complete solitude? Would you actually want that?"

Reid frowned. "I don't know, I guess not. But, would it be that bad?"

Morgan gaped at him, and then ran a hand over his head, before reestablishing eye-contact. "It's always worth it, Reid. Especially for us. We keep each other sane. How many times have you been on the jet after a case ends, sitting in a silent funk until one of us sat beside you or across from you and made you talk? How many times have you been the one offering an ear? How many times have we all screwed around with each other, and made each other laugh? Without that bond, not even Garcia could blow enough sunshine to keep us all out of the darkness. So yeah, kid, it's worth it. Besides, when has anything worth it, not had a high cost?"

Reid watched his friend, having never heard him speak so passionately about the team, it came as a bit of a surprise. But, Morgan had a point.

Reid nodded. "I'm still worried about her."

Morgan sighed and leaned back. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

JJ sat and watched her a few minutes after Emily's eyes had closed, too lost in her thoughts to move immediately. They were in Hotch's office, Emily sleeping on the leather sofa the higher-ups were generous enough to give him. Not that the man hadn't earned it from countless nights spent at the office. She'd been sitting with Emily for the last twenty minutes, keeping her company until she fell asleep.

The profiler was laying with her head toward Hotch's desk, the bruised side of her face visible, body tensed even in sleep. JJ supposed she hadn't looked that much worse after Benjamin Cyrus had thrown her around like a rag doll; there had been a little less bruising, less bandaging, but nothing was broken, nothing required surgery. Hell, Emily had been in pain moving for a couple weeks after that from her ribs, not that she ever admitted it. But this time, it wasn't the physical damage that was hard to look at; it was the look in her eyes.

They were more than subdued. Her eyes showed nothing. She'd shut down completely.

Inhaling a shaky sigh, JJ quietly got up, and picked up the digital tape recorder she'd set on Hotch's desk, before making her way out, closing the door with as little sound as possible. They'd taken Emily's statement, and she'd sat through her friend describing in soul-sucking detail the hellish week she'd survived. It was her second time listening to Emily describe the rapes. And, she was about to go subject herself to a third time.

Garcia had to transcribe the whole thing, and the tech didn't handle things like this well. JJ wasn't going to let her sit through it alone, Penelope would never make it through the whole thing. At least, not without charging into Hotch's office midway through, and hugging Emily tight enough to risk asphyxia. So, JJ would sit with her friend while she transcribed the horror show immortalized in crisp digital sound.

"Hey." Did her voice really sound that tired?

Garcia spun around. "You sound like you need a nap, sweetie."

JJ shook her head. "I need you to get upload this, and email it to the guys. It's Emily's statement."

"Of course." Garcia went all business, grabbing the recorder, and snatching one of her cables to plug it in, fingers hitting the keyboard in seconds. "Any idea how big the file is?"

"Uh, well I think it's just over six hours." Garcia gaped, but she just shrugged. "Honestly, if I'd actually questioned her it would have been longer, but she was too tired to make it through that."

"Alright, I'll have to upload it the Bureau's server then, files that big don't really email…How's she doing?" Her eyes never left the screen, but JJ would have bet she could have done whatever she was in her sleep.

"Sleeping in Hotch's office, so as long there's no nightmares, better than she has been in a week."

"Good, I thought about digging up something to knock her out, but I guess she doesn't need it."

JJ's eyebrows shot up, a small smirk pulling at her lips, before reality hit, and it fell like a house of cards in a breeze. "Penelope, we're going to need you to transcribe this."

Now she did look away from the screen, mouth hanging open. "Oh Jayje, I…" She trailed off, and JJ wondered what would have come next. Garcia swallowed then, tension falling away. "Can you find me a cup of coffee and a box of tissues?"

"Sure." She smiled softly, and gave her friend a quick hug before disappearing to get what she needed.

It was an easy request, there was always coffee in the kitchen, maybe not the freshest coffee, but every cop knew the consolation to burnt coffee was that it was stronger. Not that cop-made coffee was ever weak. And, she stole tissues from someone's desk. It was after midnight on a Sunday, no one was in the bullpen.

She pushed back into Garcia's office, to see the tech already online with the guys. She let the tissues drop in front the tech, and set one of the cups of coffee next to her.

"How's Texas?" She asked the guys.

"Hot." Hotch looked like shit. Well really, all six of them looked like shit.

"What are we in for, JJ?" Rossi asked. At least he didn't beat around the bush.

She opened her mouth, but suddenly didn't know how to answer that. How did she prepare them for this? Then she sighed. "Do you guys remember, on that case in Idaho, we were all at the third crime scene when Emily tripped and went rolling down the hill?"

They'd all ran after her, and when we got down there, she was mumbling what sounded like nonsense. They'd all been afraid she managed to get a concussion, but then she looked up, totally perplexed by the stricken expressions on their faces. They asked her what the hell she'd been saying. With an embarrassed chuckle, she admitted she'd been cursing in about three different languages, none of them English. It gave them all a much-needed laugh.

The guys all nodded back at her, looking a bit confused.

"Keep that in the back of your heads when you listen." Like a spoonful of sugar, it would make it easier to swallow.

A few more exchanges, and the four profilers said goodnight. Not that any of them would be sleeping.

"Okay, I think I'm ready." Garcia shifted the tissues into a better spot, sipped her coffee, and looked to JJ.

She nodded. Surely, it couldn't be as bad the third time around. Right?

Garcia hit the play button, fingers poised over the keys to type as she heard everything. JJ's voice hit them first.

"_This is SSA Jennifer Jareau interviewing SSA Emily Prentiss regarding the events of July 20, 2010 through today, July 27, 2010. It is 6:15…Emily can you tell me everything you remember about the night of July 20__th__, starting after you left the diner?"_

Emily voice was strong, and a little empty. _"I left the diner and went straight to Chris Bennett's house, I locked my weapon in the glove compartment, and knocked on the door. He had Carrie, uh Carolyn, the baby, in his arms, she was crying, and he hugged me as soon as he saw me. I was uncomfortable, so I broke away, and took Carrie and started pacing to get her to sleep. It took about an hour…" _

Garcia held it together and only needed to stop the tape twice.

* * *

_Originally this last part was Emily actually giving her statement, or at least some of it, but I decided the team reacting to/discussing her statement was more interesting, so I rewrote it. So, this is probably the first chapter where I'm never in her head._

_Once again, I've got a lot going on, and now I'm fighting a cold, so there might be some delays between chapters for a while. Good news is, the story is winding down, so baring catastrophe, it will be completed before the season premiere._

_Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter, and those who read and will review this one._


	19. Chapter 19

**Monday**

JJ was pacing like a hyena on pack watch duty, and Garcia was feeling a little nervous watching her. The bat-cave wasn't that big, and JJ was more than a little pissed. It wasn't often that Garcia saw her angry, but after catching the nine o'clock news, the liaison was positively livid. She'd just hung up with Lieutenant Peters from the Alabama State Police, and Garcia didn't doubt for a minute that she'd gotten the message. Never had she heard JJ talk to _anyone_ like she had that woman.

Someone had leaked to the press that Emily had been raped, the story had been on the morning news, and she'd been getting phone calls all morning. A local affiliate in Alabama had broken the story, and it circulated quickly through the parent network, and then the rest of the country's media. They hadn't told the profiler yet; she was up in the conference room with the kids.

"You okay, Jayje?" Garcia chanced.

The young woman abruptly stopped, startled and turned to Garcia . "They had no right to divulge that information, and the media had no right to report that. Even _they're_ supposed to respect the privacy of rape victims."

"I know...but they make exceptions when the case is sensational enough."

"They're going to hound her even more now."

"Well, in the next press conference, if you address them with the same tone of voice you used with that cop, they won't dream of coming near Emily." Garcia smirked at her.

JJ winced slightly. "I'm just sooo angry."

"Me too, but we've got to go tell Em, she needs to know." She nodded the agent toward the door, and followed her out. The bullpen was it's usual flutter of activity, but the agents seated were being purposefully blind toward their comings and goings. Emily was pretty much hiding anyway.

When they opened the door, Garcia watched Emily go immediately tense at the noise, and whip around, protective hands on the children. She relaxed when she saw them, and then frowned at their unhappy faces-and probably the anger still radiating off JJ.

"What's going on?" Then her face seemed to go pale. "The guys?"

"They're fine, probably bitching about the heat," Garcia quickly assured her, then turned to Kyle. "Hey Kyle , why don't you show me what your drawing?"

He nodded eagerly, and Garcia made her way over, keeping one ear and one eye on her friends.

"There was a leak," JJ began, as Emily stood next to her. "It's already circulated through the press."

Emily didn't even need to ask, and she didn't seem surprised. She just sank tiredly into a chair, and nodded slowly. When she spoke her voice was full of venom. "Well, when they ask in the next press conference, you can tell them I'm not a damn victim. I won't be on 60 Minutes crying about how violated I feel, and waxing poetic about dealing with trauma."

"Careful sweetie, Jayje is pissed enough to actually say that," Garcia warned playfully.

Both women managed a smile at that, then JJ's look turned serious. "They will ask, and I'll tell them whatever you want me to."

Emily sighed then. "Tell them...tell them I want to be left in peace to cope with my family, and that I have no intention of giving a statement or any interviews. That's pretty innocuous, right?"

JJ nodded, and squeezed her hand. "You look like you didn't sleep much."

"One night's not going to make up for a week." Emily looked toward the floor, like it even talking around it was hard.

Garcia spoke then. "Then how about we take the kids for a bit. You take a nap."

_

* * *

She was washing the dinner dishes, one hand circled in a silver cuff, long chain leading to the handle of the cabinet. She glanced around, saw she was in the kitchen of the cabin in Kentucky. Kyle wasn't beside her. That wasn't right, he was always attached to her. But then, she shouldn't be here. This wasn't right. She was supposed to be at the BAU. _

"_Hey, I put Kyle to bed." Suddenly arms were around her waist, and a body was pressed flushed against hers. He kissed her neck. "The baby is already down."_

_Her heart was racing, her body rigid with tension. "I have to finish the dishes," she said._

"_It can wait." He breathed in her ear, sliding a hand over her breasts as his erection pressed into her butt. _

_Suddenly they were in bed. He moved the handcuffs to the headboard. She was naked. Her stomach was burning with anxiety._

_She shouldn't be here. She got out, got away from him. She was supposed to be at the BAU. No. No. This wasn't fair she got away, she got away from him. _

He was straddling her, his hand moving below her waist, and Emily kicked out in a panic. This wasn't right. This wasn't right! She couldn't be here again! She couldn't be back with him. Her chest ached with her furious heartbeat, as she tried to wiggle away. She tried to hit him, she tried to scream, but couldn't make any noise.

_Then she heard a little voice. "Emily?" _

_Then Chris grabbed her shoulder, and suddenly everything was gone._

"Emily?"

She blinked as her eyes readjusted to the light. Her heart was hammering as she took in the five year-old standing beside her. _He_ had touched her shoulder. She was on the couch in the BAU conference room. She was safe. Chris couldn't touch her anymore.

"Emily?" He asked for the third time.

She smiled, but it wasn't real. "Sorry Kyle, do you need something?"

He shook his head, but she could see something in his face that said everything was not okay.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

He touched her cheek with one skinny, little finger. "You're crying."

She started, and wiped at her cheeks. He was right. It wasn't profusely, but the tears were there, tricking down her cheeks. Emily quickly dried her eyes and her cheeks, then smiled at him again. "All better."

He did not look convinced.

"Why aren't you with JJ and Penelope?"

Kyle shrugged.

"Do they know you're here?" She asked. Kyle shook his head. "Kyle, is something bothering you?"

At first he didn't respond, and she was about to question him again, but then he spoke in a soft, frightened voice. "What's going to happen to daddy?"

Emily sighed, and shifted over, motioning him to sit beside her. He did, curling up against her side like the scared little boy he was. She wrapped her arms around him. "Well, you remember the men you met? Agent Hotchner, Agent Reid, Agent Rossi, and Agent Morgan?"

"Yeah, they catch the bad guys, like you."

"That's right. Well, they went to go look for you daddy, and they're going to find him."

"Daddy's a bad man." It was so matter of fact, and there was sadness there, but no doubt.

"He's just very sick," she amended.

Kyle looked up with hope in his eyes for the first time in a week. "He can get better?"

Emily felt the thump of emotion in her throat getting bigger. "No sweetie, I don't think so."

His demeanor fell, and he stared at his hands. Still looking down, he asked, "He's going to the place for the bad people?"

"Maybe." Or a mental institution, or he'd be shot to death by cops.

"What about me and Carrie? Are we going to live with you?"

"No, you're going to live with your Aunt Cassie."

He nodded but didn't seem to feel much one way or another about that.

"How about we go find JJ and Penelope?" She asked, feigning enthusiasm.

He didn't seem to feel much about that either.

* * *

JJ was perched on a piece of Garcia's vast desk surface, looking between the tech and her dizzying array of screens and information, and the profiler sitting on the floor, entertaining the kids. She had Carrie in one arm, the baby smiling and waving around a toy, while Kyle eagerly showed off his latest triumph in the activity book JJ managed to dredge up. Emily smiled at both, but it didn't reach her eyes.

She'd come in with Kyle just as they were about to really panic, and pretty much camped out there. She looked worse than before her nap. Emily was hiding, JJ knew that. From pitying looks, from the even more painful sympathy, from attention in general. People had been coming by, mostly agents from other departments, to offer sympathy and solidarity, but JJ had been turning them away. She didn't mind playing gatekeeper, if things were reversed, she knew Emily would be doing the same, but she wasn't used to seeing her friend so...docile, almost.

The only person she'd admitted to the office was Kevin, who had come to check on Garcia. The tech had happily given him a rather passionate smootch, paying no heed to her rather crowded office. Kevin had then turned to Emily, and greeted her the same way the rest of them had, and given her a rather awkward hug. All while addressing her as 'Agent'. They knew he was still nervous around them, but with Garcia's urging was getting better with not using their titles. Except for Hotch and Rossi, who he still addressed with their titles, or 'Sir', and probably always would.

A sharp ring cut-off her thoughts, and JJ wiggled around for her phone, hoping it wasn't a reporter. "Jareau."

"We haven't seen Bennett yet, I don't know how much more time I want to spend on this. You and Garcia haven't found anything new, have you?" Hotch sounded frustrated.

"No, if he isn't going there, he could be in the wind for weeks, Hotch." That's what they both feared.

"I know. I'm tired of being behind him."

"What do you need from us?"

"Can you interview the sister again?" By his tone, Hotch wasn't convinced it would help, but was running out of ideas.

"Sure, I'll see what I can get out of her."

"Good...JJ, have you seen the news?"

She didn't even need to ask. "Yes, and I already took care of it. It came out of Alabama."

"I don't like that they completely disregarded our instructions." That was Hotch-speak for, 'I'm pissed and want someone's head on a pike'.

"I already spoke to Lieutenant Peters, she assured me she'd seek appropriate disciplinary measures."

"It better be at least a formal sanction in the officer's file." He sighed. "How's Prentiss?"

She glanced back at Emily, who looked like she was completely focused on the kids, but was probably taking in every word she said. "Quiet. Tired. Coping."

* * *

It was almost two, and as hot as a broken furnace in hell. Hotch wiped sweat from his brow, and glanced at Rossi to his right. They were staked-out in one of the buildings at the ranch Bennett had been so fond of. Morgan and Reid were in another building, and plainclothes Texas troopers swarmed the rest of the place. Fortunately, walking around armed in west Texas wasn't weird, especially at a ranch. The owners were also happy to cooperate (Texans don't take kindly to rapists and child abductors), so they had the run of the place.

It was on a piece of desert so scalding, Hotch could see the air shiver with moisture, like ripples on a pond. It was rustic and utilitarian, not a tourist summer camp. The cowboy hats, spur-heeled boots, bandanas, and chaps they wore weren't bright or shined. Their clothing was worn with aged, and baptized with dirt and sweat. They worked in the corrals, training horses, cleaning barn stalls, putting out fresh water for the animals, taking care of the cows, and a thousand other things Hotch wouldn't have been able to identify. The place even had it's own tackle shop, which contained the only touristy items in the place-hats and t-shirts emblazoned with the logo for Coyote-Call Ranch.

He and Rossi were in the tackle shop, pressed up against windows that gave a decent view of the grounds. Rossi was positioned among the clothing, while Hotch was squeezed between saddles-all western style, obviously-and an array of saddlebags and girths (to keep the saddle on the horse). It made it seem even hotter. But, not one of them was willing to walk away empty-handed.

Garcia and JJ had sent them a recording of Emily 's statement around eleven. They'd spent the next four hours with it, four men hunched in a circle: grimacing, wincing and cringing at various moments. She'd gone into great detail, noticing every thing as a trained investigator and profiler. That it was in her voice made it all the harder for them to listen to, but they did. If she could go through it, the least they could do was listen.

Hotch had pulled Morgan aside afterward, having seen the anger bubbling just below the surface. He knew Morgan and Prentiss were close, and he knew Morgan , from a childhood being man of the house, was very protective of the women he cared about. Garica, JJ and Prentiss were among those women, so it didn't entirely surprise Hotch that he would be so infuriated after listening to the recording. Hell, Hotch was pissed. But, if anything happened, if anything even remotely untoward happened during the arrest, Bennett could walk.

Hearing that had been enough for Morgan . He'd known it already, but he needed the little reminder.

Unfortunately though, her statement hadn't told them much that could help them find Bennett.

At that moment his phone started ringing, and jolted both Rossi and himself, they were so wired. Hotch pulled it out glanced at the display and flipped it open. "You have something new, JJ?"

"Yeah, you guys get to leave Texas." She sounded tense, and he could almost see her pacing.

"Why, what's going on?"

"I just got a call, Washington National picked up Bennett on their security cameras half an hour ago. One of their security guards noticed him, and called the station to check, they studied the footage and confirmed it. He flew in on a private charter."

Hotch sighed. "He wouldn't have needed an ID."

"He's here, Hotch. He could be outside Quantico right now, or he could have gone to her apartment in DC."

His free hand tightened into an almost painful first, and his body was stiff with tension, before he managed to shake the anger and frustration away. Releasing a breath, he said, "We're on our way."

_

* * *

I had a lot of problems with this chapter, and I'm still not thrilled with it, but I accomplished what I needed to and I owe you all a chapter. Unfortunately, the next chapter probably won't be until Friday, but I've got it planned out to end in three, possibly four more chapters. _

_Thank you again for reading and reviewing. _


	20. Chapter 20

_Sorry, I took sort of a mental health break yesterday, which was much needed. So, only two more chapters following this one, and the story will be over. Thank you all for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

If Morgan didn't stop fidgeting and twitching like a he was going through withdrawal, Rossi was going to smack him upside the head. He got it, he really did. They were all worried and anxious to get home, but Quantico was a fortress, Emily would be safe there. Bennett would have had to get through first the Marines and then the FBI to make it to her. The only safer place they could have stashed her for Fort Knox .

But, it seemed that Morgan and Reid had temporarily switched personalities. Morgan had spent the entire plane ride tapping or bouncing his hand, foot, leg, whatever. Quietly, but in a way that suggested he was about to explode. Reid on the other hand, was utterly calm. He'd spent the flight with a book. Okay, so he hadn't been reading the book, just clutching it in his hands, but still, Reid was usually the jumpy one. And Emily, she got twitchy sometimes too.

Now Hotch was driving the SUV, and he was riding shotgun, while Morgan tapped his fingers behind Hotch, right in Rossi's peripheral vision. They were all on edge in their own ways he supposed. Hell, usually he could ignore fidgeting. It was something that pissed off one of his wives. She'd huff and fidget waiting for him to ask what was wrong, and he'd completely ignore her. In retrospect, maybe not the greatest way to handle it.

They finally pulled through the gates to Quantico, showing IDs, and getting waved through, and he could instantly feel the tension in the vehicle lesson. Each of the four men felt a little less on edge just being within running distance to their endangered friend. He almost smiled as he internally debated whether Morgan would actually run once Hotch stopped the car.

The younger man didn't. In fact, he grabbed his go bag, and walked inside calmly beside Hotch. Rossi walked beside Reid, who seemed to have lost his tongue. He knew Reid himself had been abducted and kept by an unsub for two days. He also knew that he'd watched Emily get dragged off and beaten by a psychopathic cult leader to save him from getting shot. This whole mess couldn't be bringing happy things to the surface for the young man.

They found JJ and Emily in the conference room, the former finishing a phone call, and the latter staring into space. The blond hair was still a shock. He saw Morgan and Reid both start at it, having not been privy to lovely canary yellow. Morgan was visibly upset by it, while Reid looked kind of disturbed.

The older of the two men took a step away, allowing Reid to go to her first. Rossi couldn't help but analyze it, wondering at Morgan's behavior. Emily snapped out of her moment when Reid got close, and offered him a tired smile as she stood to hug him. Reid said something to her, but Rossi couldn't hear him. Likely that he was happy she was in one piece and safe. He did hear her say thank you.

The kid offered her a grin then, and moved back, eyes going toward JJ, who was still trying to get off the phone. Morgan went to Emily then, and when she was in her arms, Rossi noticed how the tension dropped off them both. How Emily relaxed into his embrace like she hadn't anyone else's, how her fingers seemed to dig into his shoulders as she tried to hold him closer. Morgan turned his head, so his lips were by her ear, and whispered to her. Rossi saw her careful mask slip for just a few seconds, but enough to see the turmoil swirling in her eyes. Then it was back up, she nodded and he whispered a few more words before stepping back.

The tension reappeared then in both of them, just as it was visible in the rest of them. Even Garcia he'd bet. But, he got the feeling that the moment his two colleagues shared wasn't over yet. He wondered just how close they were. Closer than best friends? Maybe. As close as lovers? He didn't think so. Not yet anyway. He had a feeling that if his two teammates _were lovers, Morgan would make Bennett look like he came out of a blender with no compunction or even hesitation._

And, Rossi might be tempted to hold the bastard down for him.

"Okay," JJ's tired voice broke into his thoughts. "I was just on the phone with a Colonel from the base. Every gate and guard has Bennett's photo, and the Colonel assured me that his Marines are most eager to help us catch him."

Not a surprise. Much like Texans, Marines don't much care for people like Bennett.

JJ continued, "Every guard in our building also has his picture, and I've alerted the local press that he's in the area, both here and in DC."

"So, we just wait for him to show up somewhere?" Morgan asked.

"You have a better idea?" Hotch looked at him, almost hopefully. Morgan just shook his head.

"He'll surface if he thinks he can get what he wants." Emily's voice seemed to startle them.

"A trap?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, we make him come where we want him."

"That would be a nice change," Rossi commented.

Hotch sighed. "One problem. You're what he wants."

"I know," she said.

"Wait," Morgan started, voice tense, hand in the air. "Are you actually suggesting we let you play bait?"

She sort of shrugged, and they engaged in a staring contest. She spoke without breaking contact. "Sometimes there's no good solutions, you just have to pick the one that sucks the least."

* * *

This was turning out to be real fun. Strauss had already had a near meltdown when he explained their plan, which Hotch could deal with—if he didn't completely agree with her. Putting Prentiss back in danger was the last thing he wanted to do, yet he was still doing it. And, then everyone, and he truly meant everyone, was beyond anxious and antsy, excellent in dangerous situations like this. Add to that, one really, really pissed off profiler that liked to exercise his anger with his fists and a heavy bag, and Hotch was an unhappy man.

Morgan and Prentiss wouldn't look at each other. Him because he was pissed she was putting herself in danger right after they got her out of it. Her because, well she wasn't actually making that much eye contact with anyone. She kept zoning out into the distance, and he had no idea what she was seeing. But, all things considered, he'd guess it wasn't anything good.

He'd had his people suit up like they were heading to battle. JJ and Garcia had taken Emily into the tech's office, and were wiring her for sound, and even a highly inconspicuous tracking device. Garcia had special studs to replace the ones Emily already wore in her ears. And, if Hotch knew the woman half as well as he thought he did, she made several inappropriate comments about studs as she did it. A Kevlar vest hidden under Emily's blouse completed the outfit. She had to look vulnerable and attainable for Bennett to come, visible Kevlar tends to ruin that illusion.

Hotch was currently debating if he should arm her. He didn't want to put a gun in the hands of a woman who was likely horribly traumatized. He'd never give a victim a gun before sending her out to bait her attacker. Of course, he'd never normally send a victim out to bait her attacker. But, Prentiss was FBI, she was experienced and she was good.

Elle was FBI, experienced and good.

And, he wasn't even her attacker.

"What's wrong?" Rossi was beside him, slipping into his Kevlar. Reid and Morgan were addressing tactical.

"Should she carry?"

The older man thought about that. "I'd feel better if she had a weapon to defend herself with. Wouldn't you?"

Hotch glanced at him. "Nothing would make me feel better about this."

"She's strong, Aaron . Prentiss will hold it together until this is all over, I don't doubt that for a minute."

"I know, but no one should have to be this strong, Dave," he said.

Prentiss wasn't Elle, she ran on logic, not emotion. She'd been trained to keep her head, and burying everything under six feet of dirt from the day she was born. But, she was still human. She'd lost her head over the Mathew Benton thing; she could lose her head over this.

Morgan and Reid were suddenly beside them, both noting the strained looks. Morgan spoke first. "What's wrong?"

Hotch didn't comment, so Rossi did. "He isn't sure he's going to let her carry."

Morgan gaped. "Hotch, are you kidding? We can't dangle her like a side of beef, and not give her a weapon."

"It's not that simple. She seems fine now, but…"

"She won't freak."

Their conversation was cut off by Garcia suddenly appearing, pushing her glasses back up on her nose, and freezing at the unhappy group of men. "It can't have gone wrong already."

Reid actually snorted.

"It's not important," Hotch told her. "Prentiss ready?"

Garcia didn't believe him. "Yes. She's wired for everything except HBO. I just need you boys to stick your earpieces in to make sure the frequencies match."

Obediently, all four men picked up the white curly wires, and stuck the smooth little ear pieces in their ears, flicking the devices on. Garcia nodded for him to speak. "Prentiss?"

"I hear you, Hotch…everything ready?" Calm, steady, and strong, her voice hit all four of them.

"Yeah, we're ready."

She appeared shortly after, a nervous-looking JJ beside her. He waved her over, and motioned her to follow him to his office. She did without question, standing like a silent, patient soldier once inside. Hotch pulled her weapon from his go-bag, handing her the Glock 19. She actually looked surprised.

"Keep it hidden, we don't want him to know you're armed," he instructed.

Prentiss nodded, and he saw the first flash of fear in her eyes. It was there for barely seconds, and if he didn't know her so well, he'd never have noticed it. Hotch looked at the bruising on her face, the bandages still carefully wrapped around her wrists, and part of him hoped she did get to put a bullet in the bastard.

Then he nodded, and both knew the show was on.

* * *

The security of the glock pressed against the small of her back, hidden under her blazer, did help her nerves. It was the first time in over a week that she was armed; she hadn't gone that long since before she joined the Bureau. Now her hands itched to pick it up, the feel the cold, hard security of it under her fingertips. Instead, she shoved her key in the door, with much more force than necessary.

Morgan had driven her home, tension pouring of him like great rushing ocean waves. Before she got out, he'd grabbed her hand, and offered her a gentle squeeze and a look from those beautiful eyes of his that begged her to be careful and come out of this in one piece. It was the first time he'd looked at her since they'd decided to use her as bait. Sure, it was batshit crazy, but their options were limited, and she couldn't very well live at Quantico the rest of her life.

She wanted her life back. She wanted to get back the confidence and sense of security that Chris had taken from her. She wanted to stop feeling eyes watching her, and hands on her body every moment of every day and night.

She shut the door, and almost cried at the sight of her house. It felt like forever since she'd been there. Coffee. No tea. Tea was better for jittery nerves. She dropped her go-bag in the living room, and headed to her kitchen, sticking the kettle on to boil. The kettle she hardly ever used, because when was she ever home, and more importantly, her method of relaxing when she was actually home, was crawling up to bed, and passing out in all her clothes.

The BAU screws with every natural rhythm a body has.

Emily kicked off her boots, and walked tiredly back to the living room, letting her abused body fall into the soft couch. She fell asleep almost instantly.

She jerked awake with a soft cry, and racing heart, and it took a few seconds to clear her mind, and realize that it had already began to get dark. She scrambled for her phone, yanking it from her pocket and staring at the display. Only and hour, but still, why hadn't the kettle screamed and woken her up?

"Still there?" She asked, voice barely a whisper.

"We're here," JJ's voice came back at her. HRT had placed snipers, and teams ready down the block, and the team was positioned elsewhere, hopefully looking inconspicuous.

Emily nodded to the darkness, and headed back to her kitchen. The kettle was off the burner, and the stove had been turned off. Her breath stuck in her throat, and her hands itched to go to her back. She should have cleared the place before she settled down. What was she thinking? Hell, what was everyone else thinking?

She forced herself to calm down, to take deep breaths, and began to walk slowly, and calmly through her home. Living room and kitchen, clear. Bathroom, clear. Up the stairs, like it was any other day of her life. Master bedroom, clear. Attached bathroom, clear. Spare room one, clear. Spare room two…not so clear.

The curtains were drawn, like they always were, the bed was made, the place was neat, but the closet door was open. She used it for storage, things she probably could have gotten rid of, but chose to keep for sentimental reasons. Not that she was terribly sentimental, ever. She peered into the closest.

A hurricane had come through. Boxes were open, contents tossed about, like someone was looking for something. It was a chaotic pile with a couple of photo albums, a handful of journals, knick-knacks, a few broken, and the faded colors of once bright birthday cards. She had every birthday card her mother had given her since age six. Someone wrote the Ambassador's Christmas cards for her, but she wrote the birthday cards herself. She was really that insecure about her mother's love.

"You really didn't miss me, did you?" His breath hit her neck, hot and far too close.


	21. Chapter 21

"_No, I didn't_." Emily's voice hit their ears, shortly after Bennett's. Morgan was already halfway out the car, JJ and Rossi behind him, Hotch and Reid coming from the other end of the block.

"_It was that easy to walk away_?" Bennett sounded heartbroken.

"_No, not walk away, but stay away. It wouldn't have worked, Chris._"

"Alpha Teams, check in. Does anyone have visual of the suspect or Agent Prentiss?" Hotch demanded into his the mouthpiece at his collar.

"_Alpha One, negative, no visual_."

"_Alpha Two, negative as well. No visual_."

"_Negative for Alpha Three. No visual_." The voices came back at them, making them worry even more.

"Bravo Team, you're on," Hotch told them, trusting their leader to position them where they needed them most. The team made it to Emily's front door, waiting for the Bravo team to get in position with them in the front and at the back exit.

"_That's where you're wrong. You gave us up so I could have a career; I'd have given my career up so I could have us._" He sounded sincere, and it only made Morgan want to stuff his glock down the man's throat even more.

He waited, his body hot beneath his vest, his hands tense on his weapon as HRT assembled behind them. He'd done a hundred of these, many with more danger, and heavier firepower, but he hadn't been so nervous since his early days. He could hear JJ breathing beside him, quiet, even breaths with an edge of anxious to them. He was reminded of the tremble in her voice last night, when she sent them the recording of Emily's statement.

Garcia had called him crying after she'd finished transcribing it, made him promise they'd get Bennett. He'd sworn they'd get him. Putting Prentiss back in danger wasn't part of that promise.

"Morgan," Hotch nodded to the door. His team moved, so he could do this thing, though he never planned on doing it with this door, at this house.

He brought his strong leg up, and then slammed it out in a motion too quick to see in its graceful parts. Sliding to the side, he allowed Hotch and Rossi entrance first, before sweeping behind them, JJ, Reid and HRT behind him.

"Fuck, what was that!" His ear picked it up from Emily's mic, as his other ear simultaneous heard his yell.

"_Don't move, Chris_."

"Shit, Em, what are you doing?" Again his voice was loud enough to hear, hers was quiet.

"_Scary on this side of the barrel isn't it?_" Her voice sounded…wrong. Almost detached, but not quite. Something wasn't right about it.

They creped up the stairs, nearly silent even in their combat boots, guns aimed toward the ground. HRT was already in the back door, swarming on the ground floor. Morgan's pulse was rocketing in his ears.

"What's wrong with you?"

"How does it feel?" Her voice rung out loud, hitting their ears in an unnerving stereo.

"What?" Bennett was pissed, and maybe a little confused.

"Being on the other side. Being powerless. Being helpless." Emily's voice had gone quiet again, but they were close enough to hear it. He heard it crack with emotion. He heard the anger.

Morgan could see Hotch at the top of the stairs, listening for which room held their agent and their suspect. He motioned to one of the rooms, and signaled for a silent count down, before they all started piling in.

"I don't know what you mean, Em. But, I want to help you, I really do."

Shit, was this jackass really playing hostage negotiator with her?

"You dragged me through half the fucking country, and even with my wrists raw and bleeding, you kept me in handcuffs. You hit me." Her voice was angry, clear and steady, but with an uncontrolled edge to it. "You held me down, Chris. Do you realize that? You held me down, and you pried my legs apart. Even when I begged and pled with you not to. You didn't hear it, you didn't care. Do you know what it's like to live with that, for a whole goddamned week?"

Hotch's finger's moved, three, two, one, and they were rushing up the stairs, and busting into the room.

* * *

Emily could feel her body, hot and humming with the adrenaline pouring through her. But, her hand was steady. She'd carried a gun for fifteen years, it would take more than this to destroy all her training and practice. Her body knew what to do, and how to do it, even if her mind wasn't on quite the same wavelength. Her finger was itchy on the trigger, a round already in the chamber, ready to be fired. She just needed an excuse.

She heard the team burst in, sensed them all assembling around Chris, but she didn't really see them. All she saw was Chris, a man she used to trust, use to love a lifetime ago. She saw him above her, blue eyes playful and filled with lust, felt his hands lifting up her dress, and the weight of his body holding her down. But she also felt the cold security of the glock in her hands, and finally, she wasn't powerless.

Just a little bit of pressure, and she'd be certain he'd never touch her again. He'd never be able to chain her to a door, a bed or a chair, never raise a hand to her, never hold her down again. It would be so quick. Just a squeeze of the trigger. She'd never be prosecuted for it, she knew the system well enough to know that. So easy, so quick. There was even a piece of her that _wanted to do it, really __wanted to watch him beg and bleed to death on the floor._

And, that's what snapped her out of it. She blinked, and suddenly her tunnel vision disappeared, and she could hear JJ beside her, trying to get her attention.

"Emily? Emily, we've got him."

She turned, the blonde had holstered her own weapon, and had her hands up, but wouldn't risk touching her and spooking her.

Prentiss nodded, and let her arms drop. Now her hands were a little shaky, as she passed the glock to JJ. She didn't want it near her, not if she might use it. Not when using it would be murder. Justifiable maybe, but murder all the same.

"Christopher Bennett, put your hands up," Hotch instructed, nodding Rossi to move toward him with handcuffs.

Instead, Bennett made to move toward Emily's right side, one hand reaching toward his waistband. Emily's eyes were wide even before the shots rang out, six high-pitched bangs over-lapping each other. Only one missed its target.

She was too busy staring at Chris's body, and his blood seeping onto her hardwood floor to acknowledge anything else. Her ears were ringing, the sounds around her suddenly hollow as she looked from his body up in front of her.

JJ and Morgan were right there, studying her, trying to make sure she was okay. She got the distinct impression that none of them could hear well. Gunfire in a small space would do that.

Reid and Hotch were lowering their weapons, body's easing out the tense shooting stance they'd taken. One of Reid's shot's had missed, and landed in the wall. The other five shots fired between the two men had hit, three going clean through, one destroying a lamp, two others implanting in the walls. That's when she noticed that blood spatter all over the grey-green of the nearest wall.

And, the warm stickiness she suddenly felt on herself. She looked at her arms, her blue blouse, and saw that she looked worse than the wall. She'd been closer, though apparently not at the correct angle to be shot. She touched her face, and her fingers came away red.

Her stomach rolled violently, and she began to shake, her breath growing faster and shallow. Emily walked backward, movements slightly awkward until she hit the bed, and then she just let her body fall onto it. She wrapped her arms around her abdomen, and hunched over, trying to just breathe. She wanted to just block the world out, dive into her head and never come out.

If they'd let her, she'd probably completely mentally check out. But JJ was right there, hands on her arms, blue eyes looking worriedly into hers.

"Are you okay?" She probably shouted it, but it sounded quiet and fuzzy.

Okay? No, she was pretty sure that's not what she was. She shook her head.

JJ eased her up off the bed, and Emily walked blankly along with her, her normally attentive mind taking in nothing. Even when they got to the bathroom, the change of location was all she really took note of, nothing else really mattered. She was sitting on the closed toilet, and JJ was crouched in front of her holding her hands, and trying to get her attention. Her mouth was moving, but Emily just wasn't home to hear it.

JJ moved suddenly, and then Morgan was in front of her face. She was replaying the last ten minutes, the last week in front of her eyes, but all she could really hear in her mind was a voice repeating, 'Too much. Too much.'

Wet warmth suddenly startled her, and she jerked back. Morgan held up his hands, one armed with a wet wash cloth, and she relaxed. He wiped the blood from her face and neck, and when his fingers went to the buttons on her blouse, she didn't react. Emily moved her arms so he could get it off, and shove it into an evidence bag. He pulled off the straps on her vest, and lifted it over her head.

Maybe it was that she was suddenly cold, or that she realized she was sitting in front of Derek Morgan in just her bra. Or maybe it was the look of pain in his eyes, but she the shock-induced haze dulling her sense suddenly lifted.

"I wanted to kill him," she said.

He nodded. "Me too."

Emily shook her head. "No, I wanted to watch him beg and suffer."

Morgan put a gentle hand to her cheek, and his voice cracked. "Me too."

And, she was suddenly hugging him. It didn't matter that she was half-naked, or that the rest of the team was right outside the door. She just had to let it all go. She kept herself together longer than anyone had right to expect, but even she had her limits. And sitting there, pressed into the warmth of his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around her, she didn't feel claustrophobic. She felt truly safe for the first time in over a week.

She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and held him so tight her fingers would probably leave bruises. She didn't sob loudly; rather she cried a quiet, but furious torrent into his t-shirt. As if with the tears, she was shedding all the emotions she'd stored up since the moment they took the case in Albany. And Morgan just held her, one arm wrapped around her back, the other stroking her head gently.

* * *

JJ rested the clean shirt on the bathroom counter, and made brief eye-contact with Morgan. He nodded to the evidence bag on the floor, Emily's bloody blouse tucked into it. Well, that explained why she was in nothing except her bra. She grabbed the bag, and nodded at Morgan, one last pained glance at her crying friend, before heading out the door. This nightmare was finally, finally over. At least the worst of it.

Emily was probably going to need therapy, and JJ knew her well enough to know she'd be extremely resistant to it. No matter how messed up she was from the ordeal. Maybe Morgan could coax her into it, they seemed to have gotten very close-bathroom scene aside.

She walked back into the bedroom, where the medical examiner and her assistant were lifting Bennett into a thick black body bag. The Bureau's forensic team was still taking photos and pulling bullets from the walls. Reid was watching the scene, his face completely blank, like he wasn't feeling much.

"You okay?" she asked, standing beside him.

The young man turned to her. "Yeah, I think so. It's not the first time I shot an unsub."

No, it was far from the first time he'd shot an unsub, but this was more personal than all those times, save one. JJ simply squeezed his hand.

Hotch walked over to them, shutting his phone, as Rossi walked back into the room, and followed him over.

"Ambassador Prentiss is at Quantico, Garcia is trying to entertain her until we get back," the Unit Chief informed them.

"Morgan's in with Emily. She's out of shock, but upset. When she's ready, she'll come out."

He nodded.

"We've got a bit of a problem," Rossi said, looking specifically at JJ. "The press heard about this, and there's an ocean of them outside."

"Great," she sighed. Of course they knew, half of them kept scanners tuned to police frequencies. "You feel like using your charm and fame to distract them?"

Rossi smiled. "I think I can manage that."

She nodded gratefully. She could distract them a little, but introducing them to the famous author, David Rossi, would be much more effective. Especially since this would be the first glimpse the press would get of Emily, a small miracle that was not easy for her to pull off. JJ knew that the press would be all over her for weeks. And when they ran out of new information to print, they'd start digging around to do character-study pieces. She'd bet there were already people looking into Yale's records, and trying to grease a palm in their HR department to get Emily's personnel file.

The bathroom door opened then, and Emily came out, Morgan close behind her, her vest in one hand. She looked like hell. Exhausted, emotionally drained, and traumatized. She was a grayish pale and drawn, her eyes looked a little sunken from lack of sleep and proper food, and the red from the tears and darkness beneath didn't help much. The bruises were still dark, a stark contrast on her face, and the white bandages still covered her wrists. In fact, they should be cleaned and changed when they got back to Quantico.

"I'm just going to pack up some clothes," she said, gesturing to the master bedroom.

"Your mother's at Quantico, Garcia's entertaining her," Hotch said.

Emily's eyebrows rose. "Good luck to her."

Apparently, all she needed was a good cry to pull herself back together. They waited while Emily threw some clothes in a bag, and then all six of them headed downstairs together. They explained the situation to Emily and Morgan, though it was actually the latter who was more visibly upset by it. Emily had slipped on her mental armor; nothing would effect her until she was good and ready for another breakdown.

Hotch and Reid went out first, and were immediately accosted by reporters, who forgot all about them two seconds later when Emily appeared. Morgan kept an arm around her, and guided her through, while Reid and Hotch made a path to one of the SUVs across the street. Cameras were flashing everywhere, microphones were dangerously close to hitting them, and video cameras were held up high, trying to get footage. There was a loud rumble of people shouting questions at her-asking about her hair, the bruising on her face, if she was true that she'd been raped, and what happened at her apartment.

JJ and Rossi went outside then, closing the door to the house. "Excuse me everyone, I'm SSA Jennifer Jareau, this is SSA David Rossi, if you'll give us a minute, we've got a statement for you."

The reporters were visibly torn, but most did sway toward JJ and Rossi. She watched Hotch open the back door of the SUV, and Morgan usher Emily in, before getting in himself. Reid got in on her other side, and Hotch got into the driver's seat, and practically sped off. Then she turned to Rossi, and nodded.

He smiled at the crowd, and began to work them in the way only a celebrity could.

_______

* * *

So, this is not as I originally started writing it. My first ending was the team and local PD surrounding Bennett at the ranch in Texas, and the bastard going down in hale of bullets. I was unhappy with that ending, something just didn't feel right about it. Ultimately, I decided that Emily was entitled to her moment of crazy, that I needed to see her taking her power back from Bennett. That's the moment where she begins to heal. So, I wrote this, and this ending feels right. _

_______I'm working on one more chapter to end this, which I'll post Wednesday. I feel like their can be more to this story, concerning Emily's recovery, since that's too much to get into here. It would revolve around her first case back, but be heavily centered on Emily coping, and with more attention on the Morgan/Prentiss arch. So, if you're interested, give a shout. _

_______On that note, thank you for reading and reviewing!_


	22. Chapter 22

They had to drive through more reporters at Quantico, but fortunately got to leave them outside the front gates. Morgan had kept his arm around her even in the car, and escorted her into the building like he was her personal bodyguard. She was too tired to object, and frankly, she liked the security of having him right there. He only released her once they went through the doors to the BAU, her little safe haven for the last couple days.

The first thing they saw was Garcia outside the conference room, looking down at them, relief evident in her eyes. She nodded her head to the conference room, where Emily assumed her mother was hanging out. Well, now or never.

She left her bag by her desk, and walked up the stairs. Reid and Morgan stayed by their desks, and Hotch left to go deal with Strauss. She did not envy his job. She didn't really envy herself at the moment either.

Garcia squeezed her hand, and then left to give her some privacy. The Ambassador, she found to her surprise, was looking a bit worse for wear. No matter what was going on over the years-even through her divorce-Elizabeth Prentiss never let any stress or worry she was feeling show. That she had now, let Emily know just how much her mother had worried about her. It shouldn't have surprised her then when her mother immediately wrapped her up in a hug.

But it did. The Prentiss women were not big on displays of affection, regardless of the situation. That a hug from her mother seemed that strange said some unpleasant things about their family dynamic. None of which she had the energy to deal with right then.

Elizabeth pulled away, studying Emily's face, fingers brushing her blond hair. Her voice cracked when she spoke. "Agent Hotchner and Agent Jareau have been calling me everyday, keeping me updated. I was sure every time the phone rang, they'd be calling to tell me you were dead."

"I'm alright, Mother." Her voice was soft, not terribly convincing.

"You're face tells me otherwise."

Emily shifted uncomfortably. "You should see the other guy."

Her mother ignored it, long accustomed to her smart-ass comments. "I saw your colleagues on the news, Christopher is really dead?"

"Yeah. They told him to put his hands up, he went for his gun and came toward me, they fired."

"Do you need someplace to stay? I can get another room at the hotel I'm at..." Her voice was so eager Emily felt a little bad turning her down.

"No, that's okay, I'm going to stay with Morgan for a few days."

Elizabeth looked surprised, and then her expression turned to almost amused. "Does your boss know that?"

It took her a minute, and then Emily snorted. "In his spare bedroom, Mother."

"It's nice that you're so close with your teammates, they all seem protective of you."

"We're all protective of each other. And, closeness kind of comes with the territory." They traveled together, saw some of the worst things imaginable, and walked into countless dangerous situations side by side. They bonded, intentionally or not.

"Well, I'm glad you have them then."

Emily nodded. "How long are you in the states for?"

"Only a few days, I have to get back for a dinner event." Of course, there was always something she had to do, somewhere she had to go. "But, you should come and visit, you'll be taking some time off, won't you?"

"Yeah, I'll have to be cleared by the shrinks before I can come back."

"You make that sound like a punishment."

She shrugged. "It's a cop thing. I guess we kind of resent it."

"You know, Emily, it would probably be good for you to talk to someone. What he did to you...you shouldn't keep that buried."

Emily nodded. She wasn't about to discuss that with her mother, nor the fact that she was already having nightmares that left her trembling and breathing heavily.

Their conversation didn't last much longer, it never did with them. They just didn't have that kind of relationship. Emily showed her out of the BAU, where her security met her to take her to her car. When she headed back to the BAU, Garcia was there waiting, a woman beside her.

She was in her late forties probably, and had straight dark hair that was dyed purple in sections. She was dressed in sort of hippy-punk, and was carrying what looked like a weekender bag.

The woman shook her head and turned to Garcia, speaking with a light southern accent. "You said the bastard's dead, right?"

Emily blinked in surprise and stared at Garcia, who looked just as surprised.

"Yes, he is," she told her friend, then turned back to Emily. "Em, this is Toni. She's the best hairstylist on the east coast."

Emily nodded, understanding now. "So you can fix this?" She waved to her very yellow hair.

Toni smiled. "Just give me an hour and a bathroom."

* * *

"While I'm not thrilled with you method, and I would have preferred an arrest, I can't say I'm disappointed with the results," Strauss came as close as she ever would to giving him a pat on the back. "How is Agent Prentiss?"

Hotch wasn't quite sure how to answer. He'd walked into her office an hour ago, and this was the first time she'd asked about Emily. Finally, he settled on, "Holding her own, ma'am."

"She'll need medical clearance, and clearance from one of our staff psychologists before she can go back into the field."

He nodded. "Yes, I haven't discussed it with her yet, but I'm sure she's already aware."

"What about Bennett's children? Now that he's dead, they no longer need Bureau protection."

"Bennett's sister should arrive at the BAU any minute."

She nodded, calm and collected as any career politician. "And, what the about the rest of your team, Aaron? I know you all barely slept for a week."

"I was hoping to give them all a couple days off to regroup, off-call as well. Can that be arranged?" The world needed them to slay its human demons, but they couldn't do that if they didn't get a chance to take care of themselves.

"I've already arranged it with the other teams. Your entire team has the next two days off, and you won't be on-call until the weekend. As soon as their reports on this and the case in Albany are complete, send them home. And, the same applies to you."

The wicked bitch does have a heart, who'd have thought that? To her he said, "Thank you, ma'am."

She nodded excusing him, but her voice stopped him at the door. "Aaron, remember that the Bureau psychologists are open to you and your staff as well."

Hotch nodded, and headed out of her office, happy to be free of her. He walked back into the BAU, and up toward his office, stopping when he noticed the team in the conference room. Minus Rossi. He glanced into the older man's empty off, and then out at the bullpen, where he found his colleague walking a young woman toward the stairs. Cassie Bennett he'd guess.

He turned back to the conference room, where his team was gathered, entertaining the children. The first thing he noted was that Prentiss was no longer a blond, her hair was back to it's normal black-brown. The ends had been trimmed so it looked neater, more styled, but he'd never seen it that short. With her bangs, it was uncannily similar to Elle's, and he found that more than a little unnerving. He hoped that's where the similarities ended.

No, he knew that's where the similarities ended. When faced with the opportunity, Elle had taken that shot, Prentiss didn't.

She'd handed her gun to JJ, and gone and had a breakdown in her bathroom instead. Part of him wondered what stopped her. She'd have lost her badge, but she'd never have been prosecuted for it. There wasn't a jury in the country that would convict a woman for killing the man who'd beaten and raped her for a week.

She had Kyle on her lap, Garcia leaning on the table beside her, cooing at the baby in a car seat. Reid was across from them showing Kyle a magic trick, and JJ was behind him laughing. Morgan seemed to have relinquished his role as her personal protector, and leaned with his back to the window, watching the scene, his eyes moving between Reid and Emily. He wondered briefly what was going on between them, and then decided it was irrelevant until they gave him reason to be concerned.

"Hotch, this is Cassie Bennett," Rossi stopped and introduced the young woman.

He offered his hand. "I'm sorry about your brother and sister-in-law, Ms. Bennett."

"Thanks, can I just get the kids?"

He nodded, and gestured her into the conference room. Kyle saw her, jumped from Emily's lap and ran toward her."

"Aunt Cassie!"

She smiled, and hugged him, before crouching down. "You and Carrie are going to come live with me now. I've already got your things from your room."

"Where do you live?"

"Well, we're going to be in a hotel for a little while, until I can find a place, but we'll be living in New York City. Your daddy took you there to see a play a few months ago, do you remember?"

He nodded. "It was big, and there was lots of people."

She smiled at him, and then stood up, face returning to the stressed, sad look she'd come in with.

Prentiss took the diaper bag, and car seat, and walked over to Cassie, whose expression went arctic at the sight of her. "She was changed and fed about an hour ago, and she'll probably fall asleep in the car, she likes the motion."

Cassie took the items without a word, slinging the diaper bag over a shoulder.

"Kyle should see a child psychologist, he saw a lot of things he never should have, and I don't think he's really been able to deal with his mother's death. Chris wasn't really-"

"_Don't_ you say his name," Cassie cut her off sharply. She fought for her emotional composure, then grabbed the hand of a confused and visibly upset Kyle, and started marching out the door.

The five year-old wiggled loose from her tight grip, and ran back to Emily, wrapping his little arms around her waist. "Bye Emily, I love you!"

"I love you too, Kyle." She held him a minute, before pressing a kiss to the top of his head, and sending him back to his aunt.

Once they were out the door, Emily shook her head, as if trying to shake off whatever she was feeling, and then turned and looked at Morgan. He turned to Hotch, Emily following, both wearing the same, 'can we go now?' look.

"We've all got Tuesday and Wednesday off, and we won't be on-call until the weekend. Complete your reports and go home." He was about to turn to leave, but instead turned to Prentiss. "We have your statement, anything else can wait."

"All I've got to write up is this morning."

"It can wait. And, you need medical and psych clearance before you're back in the field." He paused a moment, and then addressed her on a more personal level, "Emily, you have as much time as you need. Take it."

She nodded, and for once, it looked like she wouldn't grumble about any of it. It was both a relief and worrisome; she wasn't going to bounce back from this, and she realized that.

The rest of them wouldn't be bouncing back either, he could see it in their faces. This one was going to stick with them for a long time to come. But, they'd all survived it.

Sometimes that's all you can say. Sometimes that's enough.

_

* * *

_Reid struggled to catch her before they made it to the car, both of his colleagues eager to leave and get some rest. She and Morgan stopped when they heard him call, and stood waiting as he made his way through the cars. He nodded to Morgan, a subtle but clear sign that he wanted a moment alone with her. Morgan brushed her hand gently with his, and headed to the car with both their bags.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly. A stupid question maybe, but he needed to ease into what he wanted to say.

Emily gave a half shrug. "I want to sleep for a year."

He smiled. "Are you aware of the physiological effects of a year's worth of bed rest? You know Rip Van Winkle wouldn't have been able to move, maybe even speak if he slept for twenty years. His muscles would have atrophied to a point—"

"Reid," she interrupted. She didn't look impatient or angry, rather almost amused.

"Sorry. Uh, I…" He struggled, not sure how to broach a topic he wasn't very comfortable discussing. He settled for blurting it out. "You should talk to someone about this."

Her eyebrows rose. "Are you suggesting I see a shrink, Reid?"

"After Henkel, I…it wasn't easy, and I didn't want to go, because I…" He glanced at the floor, trying to hide the shame in his eyes, before meeting her eyes. "I didn't want to be my mother." He gave a nervous laugh.

"You do not have your mother's sickness," she reassured him.

He nodded. "I know, but it was still hard to go."

"But, you did eventually?"

"Yeah, I did."

Emily sighed. "And, did it help?"

He smiled. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Reid watched her turn that statement over in her head, until she got it, like he knew she would. She offered a tired smile. "Yes, you are."

* * *

He was woken by a high-pitched whine-whimper, his eyes peeling open slowly as he looked for the source of the noise. It had gotten dark, but Clooney had parked himself right at Morgan's legs, so he was easy to find. He straightened up. "What's wrong boy?"

Clooney yipped, and ran to the stairs. He whined, and looked up them, before starting toward Morgan and yipping again to get him to move. His meaning was clear-something was wrong upstairs.

Morgan unholstered his gun, and started up the stairs, training and maybe a little career-induced paranoia taking over. As soon as he got to the top, he realized what upset Clooney. He holstered his weapon, and headed toward the spare bedroom, where he could hear labored breathing and broken moans.

She'd left the door slightly ajar, so when he opened it, it was soundless. Emily was twisting around, hands fisting the sheets, face contorted with tension, breath coming in gasps in between the moans that were almost more whimpers. He could guess what she was dreaming about, and it kind of made him want to resurrect Bennett so he could beat him to death.

"Prentiss. Em. Emily," he called softly, trying to wake her without touching her. When that didn't work, he gently placed a hand on her arm.

Her whole body reacted, jumping a couple inches off the bed as she instinctively pulled away, and her eyes flew wide-open. He could see her chest rapidly rising and falling with her breathing, her body tense as she oriented herself.

"It's alright, Princess. Just me." He held his hands up, watched her relax, and nod. "You okay?"

She opened her mouth, and he was expecting to hear a denial, but then she sighed instead, a tremor running through her body. She shook her head, tongue running across her top lip, hands going into her hair.

"Come here." Morgan waved her over, and pulled her gently against his chest. He felt the tears before he heard the soft sob escape her mouth. He'd never seen her cry before, she'd come close, but never actually cried. Now, she'd broken down in his arms twice in a day.

He was happy that she felt comfortable enough with him to let him see her vulnerable, that there was someone she was willing to lean on. But at the same time, it hurt him to see her so shaken and messed up by what Bennett had done. It made him tighten his arms around her just a bit.

She didn't cry for very long, and when she finished, she pulled back quickly, wiping the evidence of tears from her face. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

Emily looked away, and he wondered how many more times it would take before she stopped being ashamed of her tears. She'd apologized earlier in her bathroom too.

"Can I ask you something?"

She turned to him, and shrugged.

"Why didn't you shoot him, Emily?"

Prentiss started, then she sighed. "That would have been killing him in cold blood. It doesn't matter that he probably deserved it, it still would have been murder. And, he took so much away from me already, my self-confidence, my sense of security, and probably most of my sanity, I couldn't let him take my humanity too."

Morgan nodded. He understood that, even admired her for it. "You hungry?"

Emily looked around, seeming to finally realize that it had gotten dark. "What time is it?"

"About 8:30." He was supposed to have woken her at 7:30 for dinner. At her questioning look, he explained, "I fell asleep downstairs, Clooney woke me up."

She smiled at that. "I could eat."

"Good, I'll find the menu. Come down when you're ready."

Morgan found Clooney waiting at the bottom of the stairs, eyes wide, tail wagging, wanting to know if the crisis was averted. "She's alright. Come on, boy."

He went straight for the dog-section of his kitchen and pulled out two of the expensive homemade dog treats that Garcia had gotten him. Apparently, she'd found them at some farmer's market the girls had gone to in Virginia, and had to get them because the proceeds went to a no-kill shelter. And, as soon as she saw the pictures of the adorable, helpless animals the shelter had helped save, she opened her wallet. So Clooney got fancy treats.

Clooney's tail was thumping, and he was already salivating when Morgan gave him the first treat. He rubbed the dogs head and muscular body. "You did good, Clooney. Real good."

He fed the pit mix the second treat, and dug in a drawer for the menu. He grabbed both the menu and phone, and then nearly ran into Emily. "Whoa, sorry. Menu." He held it up to her. "You want to take this into the living room?"

She nodded, but didn't move. Instead she pressed her lips together nervously, and looked at him. "I just wanted to say, thank you."

He squeezed her hand. "Always."

* * *

_Again, I've got mixed feelings with this ending, but then, what writer is ever entirely satisfied with their work? At least, I know from your comments, nixing the Texas shoot-out was a good move. Speaking of which, thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I will be writing a sequel, but it may not be for a bit, as I've got other stories that need to come out of my head. Since so many people have this alerted, I'll update this when I start posting the sequel._

_I just wanted to throw up some special thank yous to ShaNini, who reviewed every chapter, and also Black Tulip, JayJe, nellybean, Crime Obsessed Princess, Remote Control Princess, allie, and everybody else who has been consistent enough for me to recognize. And on that note, here's where I ask for your feelings on the story as a whole. Thanks!  
_

_Happy watching tonight (for my fellow staties)!  
_


	23. Sequel is Posted

I have finally, finally after like a year, started posting the sequel. It's called _Until These Shivers Subside_.

Sorry for the massive delay.


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